The last two days I have been breaking one of the cardinal rules of fire wife-dom, and that is to get my hopes up.
Rob left for a fire on Sunday. Since it was a small one I held out a slight hope he'd be home within a few days. Just as they were preparing to come home, they got redirected to another fire. The next day, same thing. On Wednesday I woke up early and saw that there was a fire 10 miles from the edge of Santa Fe, and knew he'd go there (I was right). He texted me this morning to say he was on his way back to the base but that (of course) they'd work a full work day. I cancelled several iterations of weekend plans thinking he'd be home.
Just after I'd spent money on groceries that will now probably never get eaten in anticipation of him coming home, I got another text from him and the crew heading all the way down to fucking Southern New Mexico, probably for the entire next week.
I like to think I've been doing better with this. Each fire has gotten slightly easier and I don't find myself in a crumpled heap as often (which we here in Caitlin-land call progress). But honestly, I was really fucking excited to see him, even though it's only been 5 days. I really didn't want to sleep alone. I didn't want to walk Cypress alone and eat alone and watch endless documentaries on Netflix and the Mad Men season finale alone.
So I'm pretty upset. I know I've been through worse, I know it's always important to keep perspective. It'll pass, but I just need to whine.
In other news, if you'd like to come keep me company and grab a drink, I'm buying.