Last night I went out to dinner with some friends. It was a really nice evening -- good conversation, good food, good complaining about husbands snoring, good prosecco, but for the first part of dinner something kept niggling at me. Worry.
I didn't go home after work, but instead went out for a pre-dinner manicure. (An excellent way to start an evening!) I emailed Rob right before I left work and I was hoping to hear from him to confirm that he had picked up Zoë and everything was OK. He never emailed me back. (We both take our Crackberries everywhere and communicate largely via email rather than actually talking on the phone.) I kept checking my phone, but no message to reassure me that all was well. I started to get concerned. At 7:23 PM when I checked for any messages for the 10th time, I realized that at that point, if something had been wrong -- if Rob didn't get Zoë for some reason, if she was sick, if who knows... -- barring immense disaster I would have heard about it by now from someone.
And then I got annoyed. Rob works late 9 nights out of 10 and almost never checks to see if Zoë and I made it home safely because he doesn't worry about it. He already knows he would hear if something was wrong. As much as I hate to admit it, he's got the right idea in this one. I'm sure I can't be alone in the worrying, but I could surely save myself some angst if I could adopt a little more of his attitude.
And yes, I know I could have just called, but I didn't -- probably because I didn't want Rob to think I was checking up on him or something. I don't know really, but it made sense at the time. Once I had my realization I was able to relax and enjoy the rest of the evening without most of the worry I had built up and when I got home everything was just fine -- Zoë was well into dreamland and my husband was snoring away.