Did I never tell you that??

Hello Friday!

I have BIG plans this weekend - to do absolutely NOTHING. (Except for clean my house. That hasn't happened in a while. I know if I don't do something about it soon, someone will pop in unexpected and I will be utterly MORTIFIED.)

The last few weekends have been CRAZY.
Heck, the last few MONTHS have been crazy.

Hmm... where shall I start?

How about Hubby's new job?
That seems like a nice place to begin.

I have to say, for this being a blog about my life as a wife - I have been keeping a rather large factor of my marriage away from my blog.

A month after we got married, Ben got a third shift job.

An hour away from home.

With amazing amounts of overtime.

At one point, Hubs was working 72 hours a week on a regular basis.
Every day, he would come home between 4 and 6am (No, I was not awake - even though sometimes I would talk to him in my sleep.) and head directly to bed. I would get up between 6:30 and 7 and, kiss him goodbye (No, he was not awake - even though sometimes he talked to me in his sleep.) and head off to work. I would come home around 12, wake him up, and eat lunch together. (It was our supper.) Then I would go back to work. He would go to work at 4 and I would not really "see" him again in a conscious state until lunch the next day. We would talk for an hour every night on the phone - which was always nice.

Two weeks ago, we became a first shift family.

That's right - as I type this, he is sitting beside me.
I actually get to see my husband every night.
We eat supper together.
Watch TV together.
Talk about our days.
And go to bed at the same time.
I love it.
It has completely thrown my world askew.
In a good way.

We both really do love it. I'm just having to rearrange and rework my routine. He's having to do the same - and it's much harder for him. I guess it's weird being up only during the day time. He always told me it was an entirely different world.
I believe him.

Now, I kept all of the third shift stuff to myself because, well... I was home alone.
At night.
In a relatively new neighborhood.
It's just me and my older lady neighbor.
And Betsey.
(we stay locked and loaded around this joint.)
Ben always told me that there was nothing scarier than coming home and the bedroom door being locked. At that point, he knew that I had either had a bad dream. (yes, that still happens for me - and yes, I'm a complete baby about it.) or I had heard some unidentifiable noise. (see previous comment in parentheses.) It meant me and Betsey were prepared - and he better identify himself.
Even though I tried to keep the whole being-alone-at-night thing on the down-low, I cannot tell you how many times that women who knew me would talk to people and say how brave I was to stay alone at night - and then to help explain who I was, tell them exactly where I live. Scarily comical.

Now, all of that is but a memory.
I hope it stays that way. :)

Now, if you'll excuse me - I'm going to go eat with my hubby.