My husband came home for lunch today (that’s not the disturbing part)… and he asked if I would mind if he goes off duck/goose/some kinda bird hunting this evening after work.
I said go, have fun, commune with nature… or whatever it is you crazy men do out there with your guns and duck calls and “scents” (yuck).
So he runs around the house gathering all of his gear for the big hunt. Then before he walks out the door, he kisses me and says, “So, just in case something happens out there and I don’t come home…”
Uhhh, excuse me?
“Just in case I don’t make it home, remember this road and this road, and my truck will be parked here on the side of this road…”
He finally notices me looking at him like he has ten heads. Seriously, I quit paying attention at the “in case I don’t come home” part.
Then he calmly informs me that I have to know the general area where he’ll be hunting… because if he doesn’t make it home I’ll have to send someone (who? Damon???) out to the woods to look for him (or his remains, I’m guessing).
Of course, I gave him “the look” and said, “How about if you just make sure your ass makes it home, k?!?!”
Geez. Now I’m going to be a nervous wreck until he makes it home tonight. I think Nick needs a hunting buddy… and I need a valium.