Working Hard is Hard Work

{this little friend was working hard at eating my mom's flowers until he met the bottom of my dad's shoe...}

Poor Martin has worked the past seven days in a row. 12 hour shifts at the restaurant, he's exhausted and I haven't really seen him since Wednesday. Well, except when he's sleeping. But having a conversation with a sleeping Martin isn't as fun as having a conversation with an awake Martin.

Me: Martin? Martin? Martin? {poke...pokepokepokepokepoke}

Martin: hmph

Me: Hey...I have to leave for work, but I was wondering if you could...

This is when Martin usually pulls all the covers and the pillow over his head. I then find one of the cats and plop them down on his head to see if that will wake him up...but no such luck.

Welcome to the life of a chef...I was warned well in advance, but somehow that doesn't make it any easier. 

I miss him. I miss having more than a five minute conversation over the phone. This weekend was full of decisions where I needed his help or at least his opinion...I was a single wife and it was hard.  

We'll get into the routine of things, I know we will. We'll make time for each other during those moments when we're both home. We won't take for granted the time we do get to see each other...awake.