First, for some background. I spend a large portion of my day writing. With a pen. Electronic medical records be darned, this hospital is still largely paper-run. Hence the writing. Throughout the course of last year, I spent a large part of my time trying out new pens. It took me a long time, but I finally discovered the perfect pen. It was difficult, because I'm left-handed, so most pens leave gross-looking smudges on the side of my hand, and very unprofessional-looking smears on my notes. And I hate pens that "skip". I don't know what the real term for it is, but it's what happens when all of a sudden you're in the middle of a note, going 100 miles an hour because as soon as you get this note done, you can finally put your feet up for a few seconds and maybe even eat something for the first time in 12 hours and by GOSH your bladder is screaming for mercy, and your pen decides that it will only spit ink out for half of that word you just wrote, and for maybe 1/4 of the next one, and when you finally admit that your writing is no longer legible, pick the pen up off the paper to carefully scrutinize the amount of ink in the barrel, shake it vigorously, and possibly even lick the tip (because, you know, that always work, right?), it decides to work just fine until maybe 2 lines later, when the whole cycle repeats. I can't take that. I have a short fuse. So anyway, I finally found the right pen. It's the Pentel Energel Liquid Gel Ink Metal Tip 0.7mm ball pen, and unfortunately it's only sold at Staples. I promise. I've looked. So don't tell me where you think I can find them unless you KNOW.
I'm done. On to the point...
I always call my husband as I'm leaving work. For one thing, it's pleasant to hear his voice after a long day without it, and for another, it gives him warning so he can have dinner ready (and yes, if our roles were reversed, everyone would be up in arms about how chauvinistic that sounds, but honestly, we both just like to eat dinner as early as we can, and we don't like dinner to be cold, so don't get your boxers in a twist). Today, I called my husband to tell him that I'd be home in 20, and as usual, started rambling about my day, and his day, and what was on the horizon that we needed to keep in mind, and what the lady in the car next to me was doing, etc. etc. Yes, I talk a lot. Right as I was turning into our neighborhood, I said, "oh, and we need to run to Staples at some point, because I'm almost out of pens." He, being well aware of the trials and tribulations I had suffered before finding true love in pen-form, replied in an appropriate and suitably interested-sounding way and I hung up the phone right before I pulled into our garage. I walked into the house, and happened to see, on the dining table:
He knows what I need before I even know I need it. And when what I need are pen refills, he knows that too.
