Thirtysomething

Where Are You?

Friday, I was driving back to Philadelphia, cutting across the state of New Jersey, when it occurred to me that Ron who's on an elective in New Jersey, would also probably be driving a similar route. I call him, expecting that he's still working, but he answers his phone.
Me: Hey, where are you?
R: Driving home, where are you?
Me: on 38--hey they let you go home early?
R: Yeah, a little bit.
Me: Want to meet me at the Cherry Hill Mall?
(My reason for wanting to meet was two-fold: one, we could eat there, because there was no way I was cooking that night and two, I could transfer all my bags to Ron's car before I returned my rental.)
R: Um, I'm already past the Cherry Hill Mall.
Me: What? Where are you?
R: Almost at the bridge.
Me: Oh. Well turn around.
R: Really? No, there's no where to turn around. Besides the mall will be a zoo.
Me: (annoyed) Fine. Will you be home in a little bit? I need to drop stuff off before I return the car.
R: Well, I'm going to the gym. What time will you be home?
Me: (more annoyed) I don't know. Fine, go to the gym, I'm going to the mall.

And so I braved the crowds at the mall for about 20 minutes looking for Waterford shotglasses (don't ask) to no avail. I give up and continue my drive back to Philly. I get gas, I sit in traffice near the bridge. Ron calls.

R: Where are you?
Me: Driving home.
R: Where?
Me: Almost at the bridge. I'll call you when I'm closer--will you come down to get the bags from me?
R: Are you using me for my brute strength? Do I look like a bellhop?
Me: Yes and yes.
R: Call me when you're close and I'll come down.

I drop off the bags with Ron, return the car, and walk home. I had wanted to decorate for Christmas that night, but my apartment is a mess. Work is being done in the bedroom and all the bedroom furniture is in the living room. Since I can't even get to most of the living room, decorating it will be impossible for the time being. I walk up the stairs in my building thinking about whether to get a real tree or resurrect my old, sad fake one.

The first thing I see when I enter my apartment is a real tree in a stand. I gasp. It's like someone was reading my mind!

Ron comes out of the kitchen and laughs.
R: I guess that means you like it?
Me: We have a real tree.
R: I know.
Me: You got us a real tree, when did you get a real tree?
R: On the way home.
Me: Today? You didn't tell me you got a real tree--I was on the phone with you and nothing was mentioned about a real tree.
R: I wanted to surprise you. I know you wanted to decorate for your book club next weekend.

I'm not sure what he said next, because I smothered him with kisses.

posted by DJ Heavy D @ 7:20 AM