full in a box

Anthony gets a ton of text messages every day. I know, because I’m the one sending them. Every time I have a thought, a funny idea, or read something interesting, I drop everything and shoot him a message. Vodafone must love me.

He’s received gems like: “My throat is sore,” “I just bought a slurpy drink. Is it normal to crave sugar this early?” and “I’m falling asleep at work.” Most of my texts are brief, but occasionally, I’ll send him quotes or Bible verses. Despite the barrage, he claims my dozens of texts per hour don’t bother him. Either he really likes me, or he finds it comforting to know someone is constantly thinking about him.

I’m starting to miss his face. He’s gone interstate for a scout camp and won’t be back for another eight days. To keep myself distracted (not that it's hard, given my 12-hour shifts at a mind-numbing job), I reminisce about our time together. Unfortunately, my timing for daydreaming is terrible. My mind always seems to drift when I’m driving at night. The other night, I was on the road, replaying a conversation we had, and I laughed so hard I nearly crashed my car. So, if you ever see a black hatchback with someone laughing behind the wheel, it’s probably yours truly.

bum chums

Yesterday, Anthony and I were watching our favourite show, Friends. The episode was about the different stages of a relationship. I looked at him and asked if our honeymoon period was over, wondering if we’d become too comfortable. He assured me we were still fun and happening.

This, of course, after he’d spent his day teaching Sunday school and furniture shopping with his family, while I was slogging away at work. We met up after church for dinner at a local restaurant because driving too far would delay the eating process.

He was sitting next to me watching TV while I listened to a sermon on my laptop. The only things missing were knitting needles, a rocking chair, and some false teeth. That’s when we realised our lives were truly riveting.

I could wallow in despair, wishing we were suddenly more interesting people, but at some point, you have to embrace who you are. Anthony and I have crazy work schedules, and as insane as it sounds, we like to spend our free time doing my favourite activity (eating) or watching DVDs together.

I was perfectly content with this arrangement, but he thought we needed to pick up a sport as a new hobby, trying to convince me that a bit of exercise wouldn’t kill us. After all, he was a fit person before meeting me, so I’m guessing he’s starting to miss the outdoors. I have a talent for turning perfectly healthy and athletic people into couch potatoes.