Thursdays are always fun days. They are the days when my husband gets to come home from working out of town. He comes straight from working 10 hours, his beard blackened from the coal dust, blue eyes sparkling from beneath coal marred brows. He smiles at me, teeth whiter against the blackened beard, and it's impossible for me not to smile back. I have to restrain myself from leaping onto him in a big bear-hug until after he bathes. Otherwise, I'd need a shower too.
The cats all wake up from their respective slumbers, greeting him in their unique ways. Damian, who loves Bry best, shuns him, curling around my legs, sitting on me, and rubbing against me until he's certain Bry understands that he upset the cat. After that, Bry has a cat velcro-ed to him for the remainder of the weekend. Damian glares and yells at me, as if it's my fault his daddy has to leave every week.
So until Bry comes home, I work, exercise, and try to get back into my stories. Once he's here, I only have two full days with him before he leaves again. After 9 years of marriage, I've learned to let go of my stuff and take advantage of the time we have together, because it's never enough.