Love Letter, 1980’s Style

My husband and I fell in love in the 1980’s. It was a magical time. We didn’t see daylight for a good two years there. It’s amazing that we made it through undergrad. 😉

Right now, I’m missing him terribly. Well, not “terribly” terribly – like I’m not about to throw myself in front of a hay baling machine. And I am kind of enjoying the fact that I get to sprawl out in an x-formation across our bed at night.

He is away for a month doing some military training. He says that with my distaste for authority, I wouldn’t last a millisecond doing what he’s doing. He said that I would’ve spontaneously combusted on the very first day. He’s probably right. When I was eight, I couldn’t even make it though one Brownies’ meeting – too many rules. Anyway, all I can think about now – in his absence – is that one week is officially down, and we have three more long weeks to go.

This solo parenting really bites the big one. I was forced to eat celebratory pizza the other night at 1:30 a.m. after my son’s first show with his new band line-up. It was so deliciously hard to stuff down my throat.

But enough about me. This blog post is about my husband, and the circumstances surrounding his absence. Poor man. His hours right now are extremely long, and even though he brought this situation on himself by signing up for something when he’s already ridiculously busy, I feel marginally sorry for him [insert tiny violin playing here].

Last night, he asked me if I missed him.

Such a stupid question. “Of course, I do,” I said.

“Good, now don’t spend any unnecessary money.” He’s so romantic.

“I won’t. I might be looking for a dresser for our bedroom though.”

“Don’t.” He can be a real party-pooper. I just want our house to look stylish – not like the thrift store dumping ground that it usually resembles.

And that was the end of our conversation. It’s was lights out in the military barracks. I didn’t even have time to tell him that I’m thinking “mid-century modern credenza style furniture” as opposed to the typical “dresser” dresser.

All kidding/shopping aside, I miss my husband. And since we haven’t had much time to talk on the telephone, I’ve written him this love letter, which may or may not really just be the lyrics to a really bad 80’s song. I think it really captures the essence of how I’m feeling right now.

He should be able to read it tonight before he goes to bed, if he’s not off doing military stuff in the bushes somewhere (which I think he might be), and getting eaten by mosquitoes, but hopefully not by bears.

Love Letter, 1980's Style | TheFurFiles

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Thanks, I Get It Now Corey Hart

This is how my brain works…

The other day, I heard about Cory Monteith’s death. They said it happened because he did heroin and then drank alcohol, or because he drank alcohol and then did heroin – either way, it’s a lethal mix. Sad story, for sure. I still don’t like Glee.

Then I thought, Cory Monteith – Cory, Cory, Corey – like Corey Hart? Both Canadian. And no, we don’t all name our kids that here in Canada. At least, I didn’t. I did know a Cory/Corey once back in high school though.

Anyway, thinking of Corey Hart made me wonder about that damn sunglasses’ song. I’ve never quite been able to figure it out.

So I called Corey up – Corey Hart, not Cory Monteith obviously – and I asked him. He’s not famous anymore. I knew he’d take a random call.

We didn’t chat for long. I got right to the point. “I get the beginning of the sunglasses’ song, Corey – ‘I wear my sunglasses at night, so I can, so I can watch you even breathe your story lies’…or whatever. It’s just the rest of it that sounds fucked up to me. Can you sing it again, and this time, make the words more clear?”

Canadians are obliging, so he did.

Thanks, I Get It Now Corey Hart | TheFurFiles

“Ahhh, I get it now,” I replied, feeling much better. I then went on to make dinner untormented for the first time in over twenty-five years.

End of story.

NOTE: For any person who actually thinks I called Corey Hart to ask him such a silly question, thereby insulting him and making light of his entire music career – and there WILL be a few of you (Donna) – well, I didn’t. It’s a joke. Lighten up.

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