“How was your day?” he asked.
JG and I were catching up over the phone as he drove home. He’d been at school for 14 hours – classes, volleyball practice, and the bonus of Back to School Night – so it was the first time we’d really talked.
“Sucky,” I said.
I told him how the lack of an administrative assistant at work made me the default person for ordering supplies and lunch in addition to fielding voicemails and cleaning up common areas, and oh, right, doing my actual job. How trying to train a new employee resulted in a task taking three times as long as it would have taken me to do it myself, especially when he didn’t bother to read the instructions provided. How doing work outside of my normal responsibilities prevented me from meeting a deadline today, and I hate it when I can’t follow through on what I say I’ll do. How this bitterness built up to the point that I snapped at my co-workers and felt awful. How I tried to drown my sorrows in pasta before watching 4 straight hours of straight television, including three episodes of the gem that is Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders: Making the Team. How I sat huddled on the couch with my fingers in my ears as lightning lit up the silhouettes of our trees because I hate thunder so much and I was too scared to close blinds. How glad I was to finally talk to him, even if I did cry a little and it was so late.
And then JG agreed with me that I had had a rough day, that it was ridiculous how tasks fell to me without any acknowledgement, and that it was probably one of the worst days for him to have to stay at school all day. “I owe you a big hug when I get home,” he told me. That sounded okay to me.
I feel a little better now, but I can’t wait for him to come home.