Dinner Disappearance

No, this is not a post about someone breaking in and stealing my ready-to-serve chicken casserole for tonight's dinner. Instead, this post is about how it never seizes to amaze me how my husband can vanish into thin air, in a "beam-me-up Scotty" sort of way, particularly around the dinner hour, and mysteriously end up at a card game that he swore he told me about the night before. I just don't get it. Why can't I get away with these magical vanishing acts? Why is it that Cole and Austin would have me lassoed and tied up like a loose bull before my ass was even half way out the door?

I'm not sure what the reasoning is, or how it is that Dan has become such a master at becoming missing-in-action at key, trigger, moments, but it is something that I've had to learn to deal with as long as I choose to remain in this marriage. We all have our faults, after all. And I'm sure if you asked Dan why, whether it be an escape from his kids or his crazed wife, he really would have no idea that he possessed such a vanishing trait at all. He probably would be actually quite thrilled.

So, next time your chicken casserole, I mean husband, disappears during the dinner hour, praise him for being the smart one in the relationship who has figured out the master of this fine art. Who knows, maybe I'll try disappearing tonight at an opportune moment. I hear there are some good movies playing. Or, at the least, I could try locking myself in a closet with a bottle of wine and a good book.