Sundays are the worst

2:00 am - An alarm is going off. In a panic, I jump out of bed and realize it's not the house alarm but the electric fence alarm. My mind is foggy but the adrenaline is pumping, and as I run downstairs I think I'm on the last step but I'm not, and I fall, like a graceful fool, onto my knees. Ouch. If you were here, you'd have been downstairs before the alarm even woke me.

2:45 - Still can't fall back asleep. Toss and turn in a bed by myself.

3:20 - Slept for a little while, but now I'm awake again. I sleep so poorly in a bed by myself.

5:15 - Wide awake once again. I trade my pillow for yours and force my eyes closed.

7:30 - I only have to wake up 3 people to get ready for church, not 4 (because you're not here).

7:50 - One toothbrush in the toothbrush holder on our bathroom countertop makes me sad. Yes, I admit, I bought another one that matches yours exactly, simply to keep two in there at all times.

8:15 - McKinley loves to come and visit you in the bathroom on Sunday mornings, because you're shaving by the time she's dressed and ready. Not this morning.

8:30 - It is absolutely frigid outside, and the roads are slick. Driving your truck is a necessity.....except there's no one to go outside, start it for me, and scrape the windows.

8:35 - Back inside, but the newspaper is still at the mailbox. That retrieval is your job, but I'll head back outside to get it.

8:38 - Backing out of the driveway, on time. If you were home, we'd be running a few minutes late (you do love to sleep in as long as you can on a Sunday).

9:05 - God answered my one, simple prayer this morning. Our friends got to church exactly when I did, so I sat with them. Oh, how I loathe sitting by myself at church.

9:20 - I always hold your hand at church when we pray. Not today.

11:00 - Lunch is ready, but places at the table are set for only 4. Do you know that I sit at your spot when you're gone? That way the only missing spot is mine, not yours. But today, the hole seems too gaping to me. I remove everything from the table and take out the leaf, condensing the table to its much smaller size. Better. Less missing space.

11:30 - The kitchen is cleaned up, and it's to the couch to shop the Sunday ads in the newspaper. As soon as I'm done with them, I head to the recycle bin. No need to ask you if I should save any for you.

12:25 pm - No stitches are needed, but I've badly cut two of my knuckles trying to use regular scissors to cut through wire on some Christmas decorations. I was too lazy to get the wire cutters out of the garage. No one scolds me (as you would've), but the children assume it's time to call 911.

1:40 - Bundle up the girls to drop one of them off at a friend's Christmas party. The other two Christmas shop with me while we wait for the party to end. If you were home, they could've just stayed home with you.

4:15 - Go out of my way on the trip home to return two overdue library books. Normally, I'd ask you to drop them off on your way home from work.

4:35 - The Colts game has already started, and I missed the kick off. There is no yelling at the television, and no one to give me their personal commentary on the game. No one to ask my questions to about "Why'd they do that?" or "What's that call mean?".

8:00 - I somewhat succeed in getting the girls on the path to bedtime....by myself. They have to accept just my regular hugs and kisses, as Daddy is not here to dole out the butterfly kisses and his other special bedtime routines with them. I've tried, but they tell me I just don't do those things as good as he does them.

8:10 - You call. The girls each get their turn, telling you the highlights of their day and how I bought them supper at Burger King (they always rat me out). My turn. You sound tired and down in the dumps (again).

8:55 - The house is finally quiet, and the tv is on simply for noise. There are loads of laundry to fold, clean dishes to put away, piles of Christmas presents to wrap, and so on. Choosing to do any of those chores would only extend my day. I'd rather go to bed myself. It'll pass the time much quicker....or so I fool myself.

9:20 - I toss and turn once again. I hate knowing that technically, you're not really even gone yet. The 7 months in country have not even begun. Today was hard. And I hate Sundays.