A Little Too Ironic

In a turn of events that would be fitting for a late lyrical addition to Alanis Morisette’s “Isn’t it Ironic?” my boyfriend is now attired in a prison jumpsuit. Wasn’t it me who suggested only a week ago that we dress up as a cop and a jail bird for Halloween? Who knew that M would take that suggestion so literally?! This surely was not what I had in mind when I suggested that he inquire into getting a real prison uniform! Nevertheless, it seems that Halloween has arrived early for this couple, though I’ve yet to enlist in the police academy or any similar law enforcement training.

And while my boyfriend is far from dancing to the jail house rock, I’m looking forward to him getting in step – on the right path – soon enough. Surely, this will be a lesson to him that the next time he thinks to pick up the phone to call his ex-wife, he’d be wise to consider whether or not calling the police himself would be less time consuming.

Sadly, albeit my musing, this is no laughing matter. In fact, unsurprisingly, M was very sad on the phone this morning. Sounding more drained than I’ve ever heard him, he spoke hoarsely into the receiver, explaining that his new “bed” – a three inch piece of plastic mat cushioning him from the concrete floor – and a thin gray blanket which he finally received was somewhat of an improvement, though he did not sleep at all last night, giving us something in common.

“I wrote you a letter yesterday,” he said in a low voice. “I wrote you one too,” I replied, referring to one of the many notes I’ve hidden in various pockets of the leather jacket he left draped across my dining room chair. “Do you have it with you?” I asked, irrelevantly, trying to make conversation. (I’ve learned it to be better to ask these sorts of questions rather than those regarding the eating, sleeping, or showering situation!) “No,” he said, “It’s in my cell.” “How romantic,” I joked.

How many more sleepless nights will pass before he comes home? Whatever the number, one more seems like too many, but I wait patiently, and God knows, I thank Him everyday for sustaining both of us through this nightmare. I’ve never been so appreciative to have a bed and a blanket as I’ve been these past few nights. Funny what lengths it takes to make us appreciate the things we’ve so commonly come to take for granted.

After this situation, I don’t take anything for granted anymore. And isn’t it ironic?