The first message or two are of the general type. Stuff like "Hi sweetie, just called to say hi, give me a call when you get back." The next one is pretty much the same, "Hi, it’s me again hon, hope everything is ok, call me when you get in." After those openers the tone and the urgency begin to set in, "Where are you? Dan (notice sweetie and hon are gone), call me when you get in, where are you?"

We then progress to the guilt trip, "Hello, Dan, where are you? I’m worried about you, please call me, I hope everything is ok."

Eventually I catch up to these messages and naturally I want to know what’s the urgency. "I just like to know where you are. The least you could do is check in once in a while. No, nothing’s wrong. Where have you been anyway?"

I then give her a complete rundown down to the last detail. "Wow, that’s pretty boring stuff" she replies. The other thing that drives her crazy is if I can’t talk when she does get me. I ask her, "Can I call you back?"

Her response is "How come everybody else is more important?" "Nancy, I have to give a quote on a job." "Oh, ok, but call me back after you give the quote. I just want to know what’s new and who you heard from today." We go through the same ritual every day. "I really didn’t hear from anybody today, same old stuff." She then pushes me, "You didn’t talk to one single person today? You expect me to believe that you’re out there all day and yet you didn’t talk to anyone?" Later on in the evening I’ll mention what so and so had to say, and, without missing a beat, she says, "I thought you didn’t talk to anybody today? That’s somebody"

The other issue is that I have to call her before I come home. "Call me when you’re coming home, I might need something." I try to push her sooner to find out what she might need, rather then later. "I can’t think of what I need right now but I know by the time you call I will need something."

I’ve talked to other guys about this and they seem to all go through the same thing. We have concluded that it is a power thing. They really don’t need anything but want to prove that we’ll go that extra mile for them. Can you imagine what life could be like if not only we couldn’t be found for hours, we come home without checking in?

I have to admit that she scares me. She can be pretty tough. She stares right through me with her eyes, her voice tightens up and her body gets rigid, she won’t say anything for a few minutes, then she begins with a slow, even delivery, each word in a sharp staccato, "You... didn’t… call, annnnd, I really… needed…something." I offer to immediately turn around and go to Cumberland. "No, No, I can sacrifice, I can do without the pickled watermelon rind until tomorrow." Sometimes I even sneak out to get whatever it was that she wanted.

I’ve been known to hit three different stores until I find pickled watermelon rind, or coconut milk, or gourmet jelly beans, or artichoke hearts, or kosher salt, or Preference by Loreal (dark ash brown), or some fresh spice that I’ve never heard of. "Surprise Nancy, here’s your ginger root, I managed to find it on my seventh try at the Price Chopper Supermarket in Framingham." She starts to look a little guilty before she says, "Oh, I decided to make a different dish. No wonder I couldn’t reach you…you should have called, I could have saved you the trip."

Meanwhile I’m having leftover Chinese from the Democratic Town Committee meeting or some lasagna that the sweet boys at the Hilltop A.A. sent home for me.

His being out of radar range also means I have to train the dogs to dial 911. What if I fell down the stairs and hurt myself. He wouldn’t know for three days that I was missing. I have moved to the guest room because he stays up too late watching very bad television.

Rather than continue to argue about it, I took my knitting and my books and boogied. We’re both happy, but the problem is he leaves for work sooner than I get up. He doesn’t even know if I’m alive when he goes to work.

Then he gets home very late at night when I’m asleep. If I die at home, he will not know about it . I should set something up with Sheppard’s where I call in daily. If I don’t call in, they can send the big black car over and tell him that I’ve departed for the big knitting shop in the sky.

Other people know what he’s like. When they can’t reach him at the office, they don’t bother calling the house-they call his favorite restaurants or the town hall. Dennis only calls here at 3:00 a.m. when he thinks there’s a chance of catching him at home.

Our Doberman wears one of those correction collars where you can zap her if she strays out of the yard. He should wear some sort of GPS doodad so I can see where he is at all times. Then I can zap him if he tries to buy something. He comes home with the damndest things. Somebody sold him an old turpentine can for $20. It’s supposed to be an antique. If he loves antiques so much, he should just come home. I’m old enough to qualify.