Feeling my wife's pain
August 06, 2003 ~ 11:59 p.m.
BOSTON, MA, U.S.A.�The poor wife.
She left last night on an 8:45 p.m. flight. Once her flight had taken off, they had to turn around, land back at Logan Airport, and remove a suspect piece of baggage. Time was essential for her as she had to report to work in the morning.
She had walked around Harvard Square with me that afternoon. Then she had the trip to the airport and the waiting in lines at check-in and security to endure. Then, as aforementioned, the take-off, security alert forcing a re-landing, take-off take two, and a long subway ride into work from Heathrow Airport.
As if all that wasn�t bad enough, Europe is currently experiencing one of its worst-ever heatwaves. London wasn�t spared. In fact, the city broke a temperature record today, hitting 95.7�F (beating the record of 95.0� set in 1990). She had called me from a train platform, hot, justifiably tired and irritable. Railtrack had numerous delays due to what they claimed were tracks buckling in the heat. When a train arrived, packed, and knowing right away that she would have to stand up for the trip, I heard her mumble the sort of language that you won�t read in her diary.
As a hot weather lover, I tried my best to sympathize. But it wasn�t so much the weather, but the commotion, confusion and inconvenience that it had caused to Londoners. My heart went out to her. Meanwhile, Jo, my lovely mom-in-law, watching the apartment for us, could find no relief. She was on the phone to me as well, complaining about the apparently ungodly heat.
Meanwhile, in Boston, though while remaining warm and on the sticky side, it was at least tolerable. I had sunbathed and then played solitaire underneath the awning of the backyard patio while listening to my beloved sports talk-radio. The humidity had dropped a bit and there was a refreshing breeze. In fact, in the shade, it was very tolerable indeed. While a temperature of nearly 96�F is not at all unusual for the Boston area at this time of year, we only reached a high of 82�.
The poor wife. She busted her ass, enduring a long plane journey, an entire day of work and a hellish commute home. While this was going on, I had gone for a run, gone back to sleep till 11:30 in the morning, spent two hours surfing the �net, then gone outdoors to enjoy the excellent sunny weather, while laughing my backside off at the goofballs on sports talk-radio, and enjoying a leisurely evening spent watching the Red Sox game with my father.
I�m not sorry that I�m still on vacation�after all, I earned it after many months away from home and a very stressful couple of months at work. It is my right to be on my native home soil for two stress-free weeks during the �dog days� of summer. This is what I look forward to every year.
But honey, if you�re reading this, know that I love you very much (even if, at times, I am loathe to show it). I�m sorry you had such a hell of a day. Take care in that heat. Get yourself a portable fan like the one you got me. Know that while I may be still enjoying myself, I am thinking of you. And it was fun having you here, even if it was for only five days.
� M.E.M.
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Copyright � 2001-2007 by M.E. Manning. All material is written by me, unless explicitly stated otherwise by use of footnotes or bylines. Do not copy or redistribute without my permission.
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