Orange You Glad He's Home?

To celebrate we color co-ordinated our outfits.

I have been intermittently sharing my husband with the ugly city of Amarillo, TX for the last couple of months. He has been sent there for work and though I am grateful we have not been permanently located there, I think it would be nicer if nobody had to go to Amarillo, ever. And here's why.
A few months back when Ryan was gone, around two a.m., from the bowels of our home, I heard this loud, dramatic C-R-E-A-K, the kind only a moving door can make. Being that I was asleep when it happened, I couldn't quite place where it was coming from, but I woke up with adrenaline pumping and my thoughts racing. "Did I forget to lock the door today and now there's someone in the house...What would I do if someone were in the house...Where are my babies?" I frantically discussed the situation with a now very groggy Ryan who explained my options 1-he's calling our neighbor friend to come check the situation out or 2-Pick up a butcher knife and go search the basement. Pick one. So there I was, large knife in one hand, the phone in the other and oh-I was crying. Luckily, no one was hiding in our pantry, storage room, behind the love sac and even in the washer and dryer but still....the creak kept echoing in my head for hours. And so. I just don't hold down forts. Even when sleeping with all the lights on, even with all of our closest neighbors on speed dial, even though my next door neighbor is a large black man who could take anybody down, armed or not. What is it about the middle of the night that brings out my most irrational thoughts? At any rate, I am glad to have Ryan home for the simple reason of a good night's sleep. Come 2 a.m., our house is no longer lit up like a Christmas tree.