It had to happen.
It is coming up for half seven. I’m waiting on the three rings of the phone which signal Himself landing back safely after a day trip for work and is on his way back to me. I’m trying not to let PPG’s news depress and overwhelm me more than it already has with the rank injustice of it all (you SUCK, Universe: YOU SUCK!). I’ve put the pot of sausage and lentil soup made this morning back on a low simmer.
It is the fifth anniversary of The Face. Five years today since Himself came home with the news of the
six month nine month one year two year assignment in Hong Kong. I can’t believe I almost forgot. I should have had a little clue earlier today when a bit of the Australia Day celebrations were shown on the news. I don’t know if I am forgetful, distracted or — maybe — really finally home.