He forgot to call, with so much going on over the weekend. He didn't forget me, just forgot to call or text me. He told me he had wanted to call Saturday evening but he crashed and burnt after the trip to the spa. Then on Sunday, he had to be about as soon as he's awake. And when he finally got home, he thought that he shan't disturb me since he thought I might be napping just before break fast time.
And there I was like a mad woman on the phone. Going on about us and I and him. Thoughtless little toot.
I am sorry for spoiling your good mood.
He called me 8 pm last night, voice cheery, thinking of the exciting news we'd be exchanging. And there I was, just after my last post, trying hard not to outright bawl at him. When I am wrong, I am wrong. My wrong is in causing the turnabout of your happy mood. I am sorry.
I hope you get to sleep, dear. I *heart* you so much, it hurts if you don't call when you say you would. I hope you would not be like the soap Sam commented on one of my posts. The harder it is you try to hold a bar of soap, the more it slips out your hand. Or maybe, you should be changed to shower cream. Just press and lather. :)
Baby, I'm really, really, really, really sorry ....
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