Mr. Troutbend sits in his chair with his laptop, and I sit here on the sofa with mine, and I send him emails to share pictures and news items. By this means I avoid disturbing his train of thought, whatever that might be.
Earlier this summer he went to Las Vegas, and the whole time he was there insisted (via delayed emails) that something was wrong with his internet connection because he was receiving the emails I sent him a day late. Somehow, this absolved him from responding to any of my emails or the various questions I was asking him about house and yard maintenance. It was as if he had determined that a question asked 12 hours earlier had surely resolved itself by the time he saw it.
When he got home, I looked at his computer, and somehow the filter in his email program was clicked so it covered up the emails sent that day, and only showed the ones sent 'yesterday.' Sheesh.
Today is our 34th wedding anniversary. I made a nice steak dinner on the grill and we had peach pie for dessert. I wasn't in the mood to be baking pies, but since this was a deep-dish version, I was willing to try it, and the crust turned out really good, which has increased my self-confidence no end.
He said, 'We can go into town tonight for a nice dinner if you want... maybe McDonalds.' I knew he was half kidding, but I also know he would enjoy dining at McDonalds. He can do that on his own time when he's batching it, doesn't need me along.
At this time next week he will be in Las Vegas and we will truly be emailing across the miles. We don't talk on the phone at all, so it will be our only means of communication for a couple of months. During that time several major projects will get done here, including a new retaining wall and steps, and a new electric line in the yard for the septic lift station and I'll be in charge. He is no doubt glad to get away.
I am wondering if we are going to have another of those situations where he thinks the emails I send him are so stale he doesn't need to respond.
The fox was here yesterday, and has lost most of his winter coat. He doesn't look like the same fox.