Because my husband is too gracious to say it

"I told you so:" A Play in Three Acts

Act I. Scene: our living room around midnight last night. Both of us sprawled out on our individual loungers.

Me: (yawning through the half-hour-plus documentary, "Making of Ferris Bueller" [note: seriously, what up with that? 10 minutes good, 15 okay. but 30+ and you are trying my patience] Man, I'm tired. I've got to go to bed - I have to get up and be coherent for a work phone call at 8:30 tomorrow morning.

The Texan: Okay, good night hon. *smooch*

Act II (our bedroom) Scene 1:

The Texan: Hey, it's 6:30 already, don't you need to get up?

Me: No-not-yet-must-sleep-zzzzz

The Texan: *shrug*

Act II, Scene 2:

My alarm: BEEP BEEP BEEP 6:50 AM WAKE UP MOFO-

Me: Oh I don't think so.

Act II, Scene 3:

Me: It's 7:30, guess I can't delay any more.

Act III: our office, 10 minutes later - the dog has been let out, I'm all coffee'd up and ready for work.

Me: Okay, who do I have to call in an hour.....[actually read the information that was sent to you yesterday about the phone call] WAIT - WAS THAT CALL FOR 8:30 EST OR CST? Aw, SHIT.

The End

The moral of this story? Freaking double-check when you have specific appointments with people in different time zones. Texas is one hour behind the East Coast - well, in regards to some social policies, it's decades behind it, but that's another post - and after having lived here going on three years, you'd think it would be second-nature to reconfirm these things.

Also, I am never going to sleep in again. Not at least for another month. Okay, maybe a week. Not until Friday at the very earliest.