Oh, the humiliation...

You remember how I was annoyed because Hubs and I didn't talk for 48 hours when he went on his recent hunting expedition?

Well, after coming back for a few days -- to drop off his deer at the processors and attend a Thanksgiving lunch at Tootie's school -- he headed back down to the woods this afternoon.

"Call me tonight at Grandma Hattie's house," he said as he left.

"OK," I replied.

I didn't get Tootie into bed until 8:30 p.m. Didn't eat dinner until almost 9:30 p.m. Had just settled down in front of the television, sprawled on the floor with my dog, when I heard our storm door creak open. Then someone rapped on the front door.

We don't get drop-by visitors at 10 p.m. So I immediately assumed that the two scary guys who whistled at me earlier today while driving by our house had returned ...

... because, you know, I'm so irresistible, what with the extra 30 pounds and gravity-stricken boobs.

Eek! Oh my gosh! Someone's at the door! Eeek! Eeek!

I scampered in circles around the living room, wearing nothing but an oversized softball shirt.

I'm not answering. No way am I opening the door at 10 p.m. Yikes, there's another knock! Maybe I can sneak back to the bedroom and peek out the window.

Just as I fled the living room, flapping my arms and squawking quietly to myself, a voice outside said, "Cathy?"

Wait a minute. I know that voice.

More knocking.

I opened the door and there stood Jo, a good friend of ours, who, at Hubs' frantic request, had driven over with her boyfriend Staton to see if I was OK.

Because it was almost 10 and Hubs hadn't heard from me.

He had tried to call, Jo told me, but I hadn't answered.

She laughed. "Did you guys have a fight or something."

Oh, how embarrassing.

"No," I said. "Our phone hasn't been working. I think the kids keep messing with the ringer volume. Or something."

In the midst of this explanation, the phone rang.

"Oh. Heh. That's the phone," I said.

Jo left while I stood laughing sheepishly in the doorway. Then I called Hubs.

"You sent our friends over at 10 o'clock?" I asked incredulously.

"I was worried," he said. "I hadn't heard from you."

Hmm. During the last trip, he didn't hear from me for 48 hours due to the lack of cell service and he didn't act at all worried then.

Further discussion, however, revealed that he was concerned about the deer antlers he had left drying in a tree in the backyard.

"I knew you had storms there today and I was worried the wind might have knocked them down and maybe Molly was gnawing on them."

I am, perhaps, the only woman whose husband isn't worried about whether she's been robbed or is entertaining male visitors during his absence, but rather that the dog is chewing on his precious antlers.

Hmph.

OK, OK, maybe he was a little worried about me...