Love/Hate

I hate it when he's gone.

Hate it.

I have trouble sleeping when he's gone, and so I pile up pillows on "his side" in an attempt to fool myself that he is there. 

It doesn't work.  So I struggle with the insomnia.

I tell myself that because it's just me and the kids we can just go out and get a burger for dinner and I don't have to cook.  But cooking is relaxing and therapeutic for me, so not only do I end up cooking, but baking, too.  Because when he gets home he'll want a cool dessert.

I know. Dork.

So I struggle with this dichotomy:  I love having time to myself, but I hate it when he's gone.

Mostly because I just can't sleep.

But of course, he always returns.

And he brings me, not just a souvenir, but something that reminded him of me when he saw it and so he got it knowing I'd love it. And I do.

"I'm glad to be home. I had trouble sleeping," he tells me.  (I smile.)

So, now he's home and we both breathe a sigh of relief because now we can both finally get some sleep. ;-)

This is what he brought me:

Can you guess where he was? 
And how this post ties in to a movie title?
(I crack myself up. =D)