Forgettable. That’s what I am.

A few months ago, I went to stay at Kylie and Sheela’s house for the night. It was a week night slumber party so before I left for work that morning, I tried to remind Husband that I wouldn’t be home that night.

E rolled his eyes back, forward and all around and insisted that I’d already told him this a “gazillion times”.

So off I trotted to work and then to the Mountains. I had a lovely evening with the girls and we sat up late talking. As I was getting into bed, a bewildered Husband phoned.

“Where are you??” he asked
“I’m at Kylie and Sheela’s house”, I replied, amused that he hadn’t remembered after all.

And then…

“Hang on! It’s 11.45pm! I usually get home at 6.30pm. Why the hell has it taken more than five hours for you to wonder where I was? What if something had happened to me?”

No satisfactory response was forthcoming.

A few weeks later,  my Manager came into the office late, after giving an early morning presentation off site. Before he got back, I had to head out to a seminar. At three thirty that afternoon, after I’d been gone four hours, and he’d been back for three, he suddenly panicked.

“Has anyone seen Janine today? Does anyone know where she is?”

It didn’t occur to him to check my diary until someone else suggested it. Once he did, his initial panic disappeared and he realised I was actually due back at any moment.

It appears that I can be MIA for hours on end before the two people I spent most of my time with, notice that I’m not there.  While I was outraged at the time of both of these events, I have realised that there are valuable lessons I can take away:

1) I should never list Ian as my next of kin.

2) I can turn up at work at any old time I please.

3) If I’m ever captured, and my kidnappers are threatening to withhold torture until I reveal all my important secrets, I’ll know that I may as well tell them straight away.

Waiting for my husband to come dashing through the door to save me is not looking likely!


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