If you follow me on Twitter, you know that I went to visit AndreAnna in Iowa last weekend. For the record, I had a blast. AndreAnna is one of the funniest, most down to earth women I've ever met. Our visit was great -- it just felt comfortable from the get-go and it was like we'd known each other forever, which if you consider the fact that we've been reading each other's blogs for about three years now, we kind of have known each other for a while. Oh, and her kids and her husband are pretty great too. They all made me feel so at home, especially Charlotte with her hugs and her spontaneous declarations of love.
But anyhoo, on Saturday AndreAnna and I drove into Chicago to hang out with Samantha of Campenette, Katie from Pseudostoops, Sara of Belle Plaine, Anne of Annabelle Speaks, and Mandi of McMama's Musings -- cool ladies, one and all! We went out to dinner and then went to a bar nearby where we were waited upon by the most fabulous pair of gay waiters I've ever had the pleasure to know.
An aside -- if you're ever feeling down or not so good about yourself, go out with a group of girlfriends and find yourself a good gay waiter. There's nothing that will make you feel quite so fabulous.
Anyway, back to my dirty trick. On Sunday, AndreAnna dropped me off at the airport -- no mean feat since we got lost twice because we were too busy talking and not paying attention to signs. I called Mr. Daddy from the airport to let him know I was there and we immediately got into an argument.
See, Mr. Daddy has house fever. Again. I think it's sort of like malaria? You can never really be cured of it? And he'd been calling me all weekend talking about this house and texting me pictures of it and I'm all the way in Chicago and can't do squat about it. Plus, I'm loathe to get my hopes up again because we all know how this keeps turning out, right? I get all excited about a house only to find out that there's nobody out there willing to loan us any money until at least next spring. So, I'm testy, is what I'm saying.
We get into a shouting match and we both hang up in anger. I started feeling remorseful and did not want to fly home in the middle of an argument. That's like asking the gods to please make my plane crash, right? I mean, that's like headline news right there. "Wife killed in plane crash. Husband remorseful because of fight before takeoff."
So, I called back. He wouldn't answer. Called again. Straight to voicemail. Called again. No answer. Texted him to TAKE MY CALL. Nothing. Called again. No answer.
Now, I'm starting to get pissed. And then I did it. The thing I feel guilty about. I sent him the following text:
"You're going to feel bad when my plane crashes and you've been so mean to me."
In a nanosecond after hitting send, my phone rang.
"You knew that would get a response, didn't you?" he said, kind of laughing.
"Yep!" And that's why I did it. I admit, it was a low down dirty trick. But I really didn't want to get on that plane without making up. Just in case. What if the worst case scenario DID happen? I certainly didn't want our last words to have been angry ones.
So, I played dirty. And then I told him that I loved him. It might not have been my proudest moment, but I would do it again in a heartbeat.