I’m home. Alone. With two children. While my husband is on a “business” trip to Vegas. The kind of trip where he calls at 9 a.m. eastern time and I say, “Wow, you slept late! Last time you were on the West Coast, you were up at 4 every morning,” and his reply is, “Well, I was up till 2:30 playing craps, so you know.”
So I’m out. With my two children. Alone. Trying to run errands. When I pop the back of the minivan and find… Nothing. And definitely not my can’t-live-without-Joovy stroller.
Quick phone call to Vegas.
Me: Um, when you took everything out of the car after our trip to New York, did you put the stroller back in or did you leave me high and dry?
Adam: Um, I didn’t put it back in?
Me: Would I be calling if you had?
Adam: Hmm, I thought I put it back in.
Me: Nope. [deep sigh] Okay, well, I’ll scratch today’s errands. It’s in the basement at home?
Adam: No, I don’t think it’s in the basement. Is it still in my car?
Me: Your car?
Adam: Yeah, I think it’s in my car.
Me: That would be the car sitting at Logan Airport until you get home in four days?
Adam: That would be the one.
ARG!!!!
