Late

No, I don't mean "girly-monthly" late.  Thankfully.

In the 7 years (tomorrow!) that I have known Shane (married for 6 1/2 of those), he has been home late exactly one time.  It was early on in our marriage and he was about ten minutes late from work.  I was a basketcase when he walked through the door and had been sure something awful had happened.  Since that overreaction, he has learned to call if he is going to be late AT ALL.

Yesterday, however, was a bad day.  He got home an HOUR AND A HALF late.  I was thisclose to calling around to hospitals and asking if he'd been admitted to the E.R.  Here's how my thought process works:

15 minutes late: Okay, maybe he went to the bank to pay our mortgage.
 

30 minutes late: Okay, this isn't normal and no bank is open this late anyway.  *I call his cell and it goes straight to voicemail--it's dead.  I called his work # and, of course, no one answers.

45 minutes late: Oh my gosh he's dead.  He has bad eyes and someone hit him crossing the street or something.  How am I supposed to plan a funeral and Kaden's 4th birthday party next week?  Kaden isn't going to have a birthday party.

That kind of positive thinking lasted about five minutes (while I sobbed-you'd think I was pregnant...I'M NOT) before I wouldn't let myself think like that anymore.

50 minutes late: It's okay, it's okay.  It was probably just a car accident (his fault because of his eyes) and they're waiting for the cops to come and do a report. *breathe!*  Oh man, we're going to have to buy all new car seats for the kids.  Why wouldn't he use the person's cell phone that he crashed into to call me and let me know what's going on??

An hour and 15 minutes late: Why are the cops taking so long?!  Oh no-he probably got hurt and the car is totaled.  I bet they're taking him to the E.R. right now and I'll be getting a call any second. *checking phone every five seconds* Who would I call first to come and watch the kids while I go to the hospital?  *goes through a list of names in my head* And I would need to borrow a car as well.  *more names* 

I tried calling his cell (even though, yes, I knew it was dead) a few hundred more times.

When he finally pulled into the driveway, I starting bawling.  He comforted me and told me that he's okay and he's sorry he was late.  Here's his story: There is a lot of construction on the Base right now and he was rerouted clear across Base to the South gate.  It is the CRAZIEST, BUSIEST entrance/exit of the whole place and that alone would have made him at least 45 minutes late during rush hour.  In addition, that meant he had to take the freeway home meaning he would again hit rush hour traffic.  And, yes, his cell was dead.
What made him that extra 30 minutes late?

He stopped to buy me roses.

AWWWW

I know, right?  Not because he was late.  He said that he was planning on buying me flowers the whole day.  Guys, I birthed children for this man and didn't get flowers out of it, so this was a big deal for me.  ;)

Anyway, yes, I overreacted.  I've always had an overactive imagination and Shane knew this before he proposed.  

The funniest thing of it all?  (Besides my reaction)

Shane walked in the door, saw me bawling, and as he handed me the roses said,
"Do you want to go shopping?"

HAHAHAHAHA  

He clearly knows how to make it up to me.