And on day two it happened.
I had hopped into a car with a friend and rode west on I-80 through Iowa.
We landed in Omaha and I believe I was probably at The Bagel Bin on Sunday when it occurred.
As I was sitting devouring a delicious everything bagel that had just the right amount of salt and toppings baked into it, he was on Amazon.
Buying a metal detector.
Something that I feared would come into our home eventually
Something that I had forbid for years.
You might say "what kind of person are you to forbid your husband anything?!"
Well, let me tell you this...
I prefer my yard to NOT have a bunch of holes in it.
I prefer to NOT have piles of metal doohickeys around every corner.
He's done enough damage with his five pound magnet attached to a rope that he carries around.
That stupid magnet that gets sucked onto shovels as I try to move it out of the way in the garage.
And then I spend the next ten minutes trying to pry it off of that shovel.
Stupid magnet.
He has carried that around because I've put the cabash on a real metal detector.
He dug up enough of our yard with that magnet.
Enough with the digging!
We have enough 50 year old aluminum pie pans!
I'll never see him again.
It will be like mushroom season.
When we will be out in the yard, looking off into the distance and I'll be discussing something deep and profound with him and as I'm wondering "why isn't he answering me?" I'll turn around and see he's not even standing there anymore.
The woods are calling to him.
The morel mushrooms are whispering to him...come find us.
Now it will be the metal detector.
Murmuring to him from the next room.
I'm just waiting. Are you ready to go on a hunt? No one will care. Let's dig up some shit!
And he'll be gone.
And he will have forgotten to take his phone.
Just like when he goes out looking for fungus.
When he falls over an uprooted tree root, he'll just have to crawl back home on his own.
With his new best friend dragging behind him...
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