Cal couldn't get off early yesterday, so he stayed here.
I arrived back home this morning, a little before noon. Upon entering the house, I called out to him that I was home. No answer. "Cal?" I called again. I looked in all the usual spots: the bed (it was Saturday morning, after all), the kitchen, the green recliner, the bathroom. Nothing.
Figuring he might've gone for a jog (or -more likely- to El Azteca for lunch), I wandered out to the backyard to check on my garden (where the black-eyed susans are about to bloom!) and found quite a shock.
We've had some foundation bricks buried in our yard since Cal and his dad tore down the old brick "shed" that was here when he bought the house. The top of the bricks was level with the ground. Cal, apparently, decided to get rid of them once and for all.
Still no sign of Cal, however, until I heard a faint moan coming from beneath the dogwood tree that stands next to our deck, where I was standing as I surveyed what looked like the excavation of King Tut's tomb. I looked down, and saw ...
I think he missed me.
