I'm goin' out for a pack of cigarettes....

The above is Furry Husband's and my code sentence. I know if he tells me he is going out for a pack of cigarettes he's gone for good because neither of us smoke and never have.

I have been known to watch those crazy cable shows like "Snapped" where someone seems perfectly normal right up until they snap and kill their husband or boyfriend. And I like to watch those crime shows like "FBI Cold Case" where they open the file from 1972 and look at how they caught the killer of someone. I'm not talking actors like in the CSI series, I'm talking real life grizzled detectives who actually interviewed family members and put the pieces together enough to find the murderer and it ends with an update on the murderer's prison term and where the murderer is now.

And then I get all sort of ...... well ........ errrrmmmm..... freaked out once the sun goes down.

I begin peeking out my windows and locking my doors and thinking ol' Bill next door is gonna climb off of his tractor and come over with an axe and chop me into little pieces. Right. Bill. Perfectly normal neighbor, Bill.... sure. Right. I'm positive he's on his way over with an axe or a chain saw as I type. *snort*

Furry Husband keeps saying, "Three words honey. CHANGE THE CHANNEL!"

I can't! I must see how they found the killer - the microfibers in the carpet, the blood drop found in the trunk of the killer's car, the rope remnants found in the killer's garage....



I tell Furry Husband in hushed tones with my eyes wide, "Sweetie. If you ever want to leave me or you don't like the way I do things? You can just leave. Tell me you are going out for a pack of cigarettes and just go. It's o.k. I don't want you to ever feel like you have to chop me up into little pieces and stuff me in a garbage bag if you want to leave or sleep with someone else. Just go o.k.? I won't ask for an explanation or anything... I'll be fine."

He stops what he's doing. He looks at me like I have really and truly finally lost it. He sighs a heavy sigh, shakes his head and placates me. "Awright dear. IF that should ever happen and I know it won't, I'll just leave. I promise I won't chop you into leeetle pieces. I'll say I'm going for a pack of cigarettes."

Well, he left today for his fabulous Napa trip. Yesterday he did EVERYTHING! He did laundry, went to the store to get me food, took our recycle in, took the garbage out, made his incredible better than sex pasta sauce for dinner so I'd have plenty of left overs while he was away. I didn't ask for any of it. I was happy we had frozen pizza, bread and lunch meat on hand. I'm generally pretty low maintenance.

I was in amazement at all of his activity throughout the day. "Are you SURE you are coming back? You aren't going out for a pack of cigarettes are you?"

He says he is coming home Sunday night. I dunno. Guess I'll find out Sunday. In the meantime, I have PLENTY of food and lots of clean clothes!