Flying on a jet plane

So I’ve got my tickets to go back home. That was such a drama, I hate airline companies! If I could walk home wouldn’t that be great? Unfortunately Australia and home is divided by seas and even if I could walk home like those migrating Neanderthals it’ll take me more than 2 weeks to reach home. By the time I’m home, it’s time to return again.

Wait a minute, are Neanderthals the migrating ones? Hmm?

Ok then. Let’s just say migrating mammoth instead of Neanderthals. Cos everyone who watched Ice Age know mammoth did attempt migrations. Aaaah, TV is sooo educational.

For weeks now my impending holiday have given everyone opportunity to tease Hero.

“When you come home, the house would be in dumps and you’d find a paper-thin Hero!” they all jibed. And to Hero, “How are you going to survive 2 weeks without her, mate? Back to noodle days, hahahaha!”

I’m not worried. I know Hero is perfectly capable of taking care of himself. Instant noodles do not need exceptional cooking skills to produce. He has lived alone for 2 years between his ex and meeting me and none of those 2 years see him paper-thin.

Hero himself is a very tidy person. Whenever I work on the weekends and he’s at home, I come home to a very clean and tidy house. It is his nature to be tidy…I know for a fact that along this strip of 5 houses, ours are the only one with clean, tidy and organized garage/car shed. And we have 4 shed! So that part I’m not worried about—I know I won’t come home to 2 weeks thick dust or 2 weeks mouldy old socks.

Last night I battled internet servers diva attitude towards me when attempting to book flights and being the future corporate-ist that I am (ehem!) I did it with my laptop, in bed. Hero, who was engaged in bedtime reading (1001 Ridiculous Ways to Die—yeah, very bedtime-ish title, that one) turned and peered onto the screen. We discussed logistics, would he be able to send me on so and so date, and pick me up on so and so date?

Then suddenly, “Baby…that’s more than 10 days you’re gone,”

“Yeah, well…two extra days then planned.”

“12 days…” he pondered. He shook his head and looked so forlorn.

I was touched. I’ll be gone for 12 days and my man is letting on that he’ll miss me heaps! Of course he wouldn’t say it because that’s not a man thing, right? But look there. Look. He is showing it.

Is this where I should hug my man and say, don’t worry honey, just 12 days! And is this where Hero will take me into his warm embrace and never let go?

Is this where…

“12 days, baby!! Who’s going to pack my lunch for me then?”

Yup. Crash! Boom! Bang! Down to earth.

So much for my romantic imaginations. That’ll teach me not to have fancy thoughts in my head, huh?

We laughed so hard at his remark, we nearly farted our small intestines out.

By the way, did you know that you can fart your small intestines out and die? Yes you can! ‘1001 Ridiculous Ways to Die’ documented that fact!

Today marks our 2 year together.

2 very wonderful years.

Thanks for being the awesomest man on the planet, hunk.

xoxo