That was a mean trick to play, brain.

Justin is working out of town for a few days this week. I know he must have told me it would be more than one day, but in the week that passed from the time he told to the day he actually left, my mind let me believe he’d be back today. That was a mean trick to play, brain.

Justin will be gone for three days. Not one day.

Now…we’ve spent plenty of time apart before. He used to be gone all the time when we lived in Washington. He’d be gone for big chunks of time, too. However…since we moved to California he hasn’t been gone that much, and since he was the only other soul I knew in the San Jose area, I’ve come to rely on him to be everything from my best girl friend to my best guy friend, from my husband to my happy hour pal and from my errand partner to my silent couch potato buddy.

I’ve actually been the one gallivanting off to other states for surgeries, funerals and the like. Neither activity falls under the exciting trip/gallivanting category, but I wanted to use the word. It’s a word I remember my mom using a lot during talks she’d have with the three of us about not calling to let them know where we were. Not that we did that a lot, but I definitely associate the word “gallivanting” with mom lectures :)

But I digress…

I don’t like when Justin is gone for a few days because:

• My coffee doesn’t taste right (Justin puts it in my to go mug in the mornings with the right amount of creamer. Try as I might, I can’t duplicate it).
• My toothbrush looked lonely as the only one in the holder.
• I don’t have anyone to scare while they’re in the shower (I like to flicker the lights…though I’m sure he expects it now and it doesn’t startle him as much).
• I have to put an extra blanket on the bed (Justin is a heater in human form).
• I don’t get a goodbye hug/kiss in the morning or a welcome home hug/kiss at night.
• All the sudden I feel like I can’t go anywhere or do something by myself. Even something as simple as go grocery shopping. I don’t know why. I used to do things by myself all the time. I’ve come to discover that even mundane, menial tasks, like picking up dry cleaning or getting my beans ground at Starbucks, are more exciting when we’re together. And because California is full of dark, scary streets and questionable characters. Don’t believe me? This is why you won’t catch me in Oakland. Oh, and this, too.
• I start thinking about earthquakes and how, just because I’m alone, one is likely to strike any second.
• And because of that I panic and ask Justin to text me his hotel information just in case the earthquake strikes. And it probably will any second.
• I miss the smell of him getting ready in the morning, from his Truefitt & Hill 1805 shaving cream (a brand I got him while in London; it’s a bit of a splurge, but it’s worth it. The tubs last forever. And I like the smell), to his shampoo, to the smell of the steam from the iron as it works away the wrinkles on a clean dress shirt, to the scent of his cologne.
• Guitar Hero is much more exciting when two people play.
• Most of all, I don’t like the weird, lonely feeling I get in my tummy after we’ve been apart for more than 24 hours. I used to get that when we dated, too.

On the other hand…

• I can eat asparagus, artichokes, squash and Brussels sprouts to my heart’s content (yes, I like Brussels sprouts and, yes, there is an s at the end of Brussels. You should give them a second chance using this recipe. Or try them sautéed with bacon/pancetta. Bacon makes everything better.).
• I can watch "Twilight" and "New Moon" movies all night long if I want to.
• There are fewer dishes (hallelujah).
• I don’t have to listen to the stupid robot thing on Justin’s game (Borderlands??) yell out, “I’m over here!” and “Check me out, I’m dancin’, I’m dancin’!”

That’s really all the “on the other hand” things I can think of. None of which help build a good case for an argument about why it’s good to spend time apart. Maybe I’ll think of more as I sit tonight (with my artichoke) at home and stare at the wall, waiting for his phone call. I probably won't come up with any more.

Hurry home, Justin! I miss you!