Bill came home last night, and I had made a HUGE pot of chicken soup. Thinking he had been out in the cold all day, it would toast him up nicely. For fun, I even made biscuits. They aren't hard to make, but while he loves them I generally despise them, so I never think to bother.
He walked in the door and asked if I minded if he went to bed.
He actually dozed in the recliner while we ate, then retired to his bed around 7.
I was awake at 12 am, thinking to myself, "Any minute now. Any minute." Midnight was a general time for things to hit the fan. I even had spoke to Melissa about plans for today, but they were in the air if Bill was home sick.
He woke up at 5:30. To his alarm. He got up and went to work. I'd be green with envy if I weren't SO relieved! I suppose, having cleaned up after FIVE, yes, FIVE, people's... well... you know, he deserved a break. But I could have sworn he was doomed.