The Married Life: Tracking Devices Optional

THE SCENE: Last Saturday, upstairs in Blair's office. Blair is happily typing away at his laptop when I fling myself into the chair beside his desk. It's a few minutes before I leave for my long run and I know Blair is heading into town later that morning for a haircut.

"What phone are you taking today?" I ask. "Your blackberry or cell phone?"

"I don't usually carry a phone with me on the weekend," said Blair.

"I know," I said. "So my question is, which one will you be carrying today?"

"Ah. I see," he said.

I shrugged. "Carry a phone or I can real quick inject you with a tracking device I have prepped and ready downstairs. Doesn't really matter to me. Your call."

Poor guy. The reason I gave for wanting him to carry a phone is that there was a chance I would need him to run by the grocery store for a few odds and ends on his way home. But really, I get nervous if I know he's beyond my reach. Not in a possessive sort of way (Seriously! Quit laughing.), but more in a "What if something would happen and I really needed to get ahold of him?" emergency-type manner. This is what technology has done to us. Suddenly waiting the 40 minutes or two-hours for someone to get home becomes unthinkable. When did that kick in?

The worst of it is, when Blair got home he told me that he left the house, got about 2 miles down the road, realized he'd forgotten his phone, so turned around and went back to get it. When he went inside the house he got distracted doing things, left the house without the phone, realized it  at the same 2 mile mark, turned around yet again and went home and got it. 

"And you never called," he said. 

"I didn't want to bother you," I said.

I better get that tracking device on him quick. Now I'm kinda worried he might run. 

Cheers,

Dena