Now he doesn't start work until Monday, so we actually could go and have a beautiful time - as a family; but at a premium cost. The hotel room (the least expensive one available) is $200 per night!
So, I will stay home with the kids; he will drive up to Yosemite today. I hope he is safe, and has a good time; but I'm worried. I worry every time he isn't by my side; I have had a reoccurring dream for years...we'll, I'm not putting that out into the Universe.
What I will end with is this - my husband is a wonderful man, I love him dearly and I am excited all ready when I think of him walking back into our home late Friday night!
BTW - NaNoWriMo update: I'm at 25,000 words! My goal is to be at 40,000 by Monday when my other half goes back to work. I know it will be hard to devote the same amount of hours per day I have been averaging, once he's working late nights!
Here is a bit of my book so far...(CAUTION! NOT FOR THE FEINT OF HEART!) I've tentatively titled it "Degenerates Deserve Death".
Click. Silence. The door opens and I can see him lying there; passed out, naked, sweating and stinking. I pause for just a second, man he still gives me pause – I’ll enjoy the killing just to break this sick power he’s got over me.
“Geee-O-rge”, I whisper into his ear. No movement. “Gee-O-rge”, I sing seductively. A faint smile crosses his face. I did remember to raise my voice and speak in a baby tone – he wouldn’t even respond if he didn’t think I was young.
His eyes begin to flutter, and that is when I pounce. A single jab to his Adam’s apple just as he is coming to, I’ve mastered that blow; enough to allow him to slowly asphyxiate. He’ll last just long enough that I can fill him in on who just ended his sorry life.
“Hello George. Funny meeting you again, I’m sure you never thought you’d see me in this trailer one more time.”
His eyes are bulging already, shit I hit him too hard. Sometimes I can still fuck up when I'm excited, shit.
“George, it’s me. Remember me? Lorraine? Oh, that’s good; I knew you’d remember me – you always said I was your favorite. Well, you are gonna die, George. I’ve crushed your Adam’s apple and you are dying. How does it feel? I bet it doesn’t feel half as bad as having to be ass-fucked by you. It probably doesn’t compare to having a bucket of piss and shit thrown on you. I’m betting it’s a whole hell of a lot better than having your brain fucked in such a way that you honestly believe that being abused and molested equals the best love you are ever gonna deserve.” I manage to keep my voice quiet while he struggles to breathe, and then it’s over – he’s gone. Humpf. Sometimes it is just so anti-climactic.