Dear Dr. D

Dear Dr. D,

Since you've been gone (resist the urge to belt out Kelly Clarkson, dear readers, and succeed in being a stronger person than I) these seemingly infinite three and a half days, I have done the following:

• Taken out the trash on my own and nearly lost everything out of the bottom of the ridiculously flimsy bag.  How are you so skilled at this, and is it simply your absence that is contributing to my woeful feeling of inadequacy, or do I really just suck at trash? Is that even possible?
• Had an in-depth conversation about the proper usage of chopsticks.  With our dog.  Complete with demonstration, which eventually digressed into me trying to catch his beard with said chopsticks.
• Bragged to anyone who will listen that my brilliant husband is rubbin' elbows with the hoity-toity hot-shot doctors at a prestigious west coast institution (I may not have any friends when you get back, by the way, because they'll be sick of hearing about this).
• Cleaned up dog-vom twice.  I think it's because J-dog misses you...?  Boy, am I glad he and I don't display that emotion in the same way.
• Reminded myself every 30 minutes or so that many people have had to suffer long distance in a relationship for much longer than a month, and somehow they survive and thrive.  And then I got annoyed because that didn't really make me feel any better.
• Texted you a picture of me making a stupid face, which did make me feel better.  Go figure.

Loves,
Your Mrs.