Mr. Y travels almost every week on business. Dallas, Little Rock, Chicago, Minneapolis, and occasionally multiple cities in one trip. Sometimes he flies out on Monday sometimes Tuesday but every week he is a guest of Marriott or Hilton (where would we be without our Reward Points?) for at least for a couple of days while he transacts business for the telecommunicatins company he works for.
He has packing and unpacking his one airline approved carry-on down to a fine art. (Yes, I am one of THOSE lucky ladies. He packs and unpacks his own bag!) The fluids are neatly contained in a clear bag he can easily put through security, his dress shirts are on hangers ready to hang in his hotel shower to steam the wrinkles out, and his toilet kit re-stocked. He is precise in his desire to leave the house exactly 2 hours before his departure and knows exactly where he wants to park at the airport for the quickest shuttle trips.
Once the trip starts he is courteous in using an app that tells me where he is "Mr Y has checked in @ Kansas City International Airport" , "Mr Y. checked in @ Chicago Midway Airport", Mr Y checked into Starbucks" Mr. Y checked in @ Wildberry Cafe, Mr Y. checked into Chicago Marriott Northwest. He is renting cars, eating airport/hotel/bar food, navigating unfamiliar streets, sleeping in cold ("Can't ever get the thermostat right in those places.") rooms, and putting up with cranky customer service/airline security/fellow passengers.
But today is Coming Home Day. He always reminds me of this in an early morning text. Tonight he gets to sleep in his own bed, wear his old sweats, catch up on DVR'd shows we both like to watch but don't want to watch unless we're together and, if he is lucky, eat a home cooked meal.
(Ding) There he is. "Mr Y. checked in @ Hertz." That means he is at the Chicago Airport and will be in the air soon. We like Coming Home Day.
Awwww! Welcome home, Mr. Y.
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