Don't worry. He's on it.

When you're away from your husband for months on end, you have to get creative to get to keep the sparks flying.

In other words, it takes a little more work to keep the magic alive.

To keep the furnace stoked, if you will.

So, the hubs and I use the telephone to stay connected. To tell each other how much we love each other. To flirt a little when things get desperate.

You gotta do what you gotta do.

For instance, as of right now, it's not uncommon for my husband to text me something along the lines of "Good morning, love of my life."

And, later in the day, I'll likely call him and tell him about all the fun plans I have for us when we're back together under the same roof in three short weeks.

It helps us keep going.

Occasionally, though, we have to stop with the verbal love letters and talk about the concrete.

The mundane, even.

Bills and work and furniture and moving expenses. You know, all that jazz.

And, in one such conversation about your basic household needs, I - Stressed Out:Party of One - may or may not have started an argument by asking my tired husband to find me a washer-dryer unit for the new house in South Carolina.

He may or may not have retorted that he "didn't have any time for stuff like that."

And then I may or may not have had a minor breakdown about how I "didn't have any time to find and ship them up there, either. Especially before the move. After all, I was only moving our entire life to a different state, while working full time! Which, it turns out, makes me a little bit busy at the moment! Don't you see that? All I need you to do is this one, simple thing! And you're protesting! I honestly can't believe this!"

Not my best moment, granted. Not that it stopped me.

Because then, in a the pit of my bad mood and melodrama, I may or may not have mentioned this little washer-dryer fiasco on my blog last week.

Which my husband may or may not have read.

Oops.

The poor dear.

He felt pretty bad about it all, it seems.

And, so, he found me an uber-cheap washer-dryer unit that he could pick up on the day of my big move.

Bless that man.

He called me with the good news yesterday.

And though it wasn't necessarily his most flirtatious phone call, I have to say, it sure sounded like sweet nothings to my stressed-out ears.

My ranting blog post was just a thing of the past. All was forgiven and forgotten.

Or so I thought.

As I thanked him profusely, he brushed it all off humbly.

And then paused. Because he obviously had something to say:

"So, now that I've gone and gotten you a washer-dryer, you get on that blog of yours and tell the Blog People I've taken care of it. And that they can all stop worrying about it already. I've done my job. Tell those Blog People that, OK? I'm on it."

So I did. Or, rather, I am.

After all, I'm sure you were all frantically pacing your homes, worried sick I wouldn't be able to properly launder any clothing or bedsheets upon my arrival at my new home next month.

But, never fear, Blog People, never fear. Put your worries aside.

My husband did his job and retrieved the blessed washer-dryer unit. Our clothes shall be dirty no more. Life is good again, Blog People. All is right in our world.

Rest easy tonight, Blog People. Rest easy.

Because my husband? He's on it.

***

Honest to goodness, you've got to love the man I married. He's sweet and considerate of my needs, and, when you least expect it, he can make you laugh like no other.

I hope everyone had a wonderful weekend! Happy Monday, Blog People!