When my father called at 11 a.m. this morning my time, five a.m. his time, my husband still had not. As my husband is travelling to my dad's tonight, I told my dad to give husband hell. Hell, I said.
Husband called hours later. I was a bit teary by then already and managed to get out a couple of: `I can't believe you didn't even get me a card,' before he finally broke down and told me he'd ordered flowers for me and hadn't they come yet.
They had not.
Sick and miserable, I crawled home. On my steps to my apartment, was a card with a paper clip on it. My husband had clearly left the card with the neighbors and asked them to give it to me no earlier than today.
The card told me to look in a cabinet. Inside was a dress, a size too small even preg-pregancy me that magically, after 10 minutes of wrangling actually fit and doesn't make me look insanely fat.
There was also a beautifully written card that played music.
And then I started to bawl.
Yes, bawl.
I can't wait to see him again.
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