It was last Thursday when Skylar suddenly asked me a very puzzling question.

"Can you take me?"

I looked at this man and waited for context on his question, for I had no earthly clue what he was referring to. When he didn't say anything else, I went ahead and made the mistake of inquiring.

"Take you where?"

The response to that question was one of the most confusing string of words with which I have ever been assaulted.

". . . to . . . the airpoooooort . . ."

He was looking at me like he was worried I had been struck with early-onset dementia. And Strangers, it is possible that I have been. Because I did not, for the life of me, know why this man was going to the airport. Was he flying somewhere? Did he get a job at Cinnabon? Is he having an affair with a TSA agent?

I could tell I was already on thin ice so I didn't dare to ask further and instead pretended I was in on the plan. Noticing the time, his general posture, and the fact that it was clear he was expecting to leave for said airport post haste AND forthwith, I suddenly found myself in a parental predicament, for I had a book event in one hour and a toddler who doesn't read.

I informed my dragon slayer I could not take him to the airport and I posthastewith made reckless childcare plans as he ordered a Lyft. I wished this man vague merriment and ambiguous well wishes as he departed.

"Have so much fun and good luck!" I shouted, hoping he was not on his way to a funeral.

That evening at my book event, an attendee asked me why Skylar wasn't also in attendance. I told them he had just fled town. This person asked where he had gone.

"I'm . . . not sure."

This person asked if it was a work trip.

". . . yes?"

This person asked when he was coming back.

"I think so," I told her, answering an adjacent question to the one she asked.

Now, if you've read this post up to this point, there's a strong likelihood that you are thinking, "gee. I sure hope Eli gives some marital advice. It seems like he's a really excellent husband who is absolutely thriving in his relationship."

Well, you're in luck. Here's some marital advice:

Turn on location tracking in your phones. If you are ever innocently caught up in a situation like the one in which I found myself last week, you will want the ability to figure out where the hell your spouse has gone after they've left for a trip you didn't know was happening.

Denver. He seemed to have settled in Denver.

You might be halfway into typing a comment to me right now suggesting we create a shared calendar on our phones so I can refer to it, like a matrimonious almanac, to decipher my marital mysteries.

You may delete that comment. We have such a calendar. But my dermatologist husband apparently only communicates in acronym and alliteration at this point, because every day is just filled with entries like this REAL one from Friday: "U028 Pigmentary Potpourri." I haven't a clue what any of his entries mean.

When he didn't come home on Sunday, I started to become worried this wasn't just a weekend thing. I remembered in the back of my mind he had, at some point I think, said something about potentially going on a month-long work trip. Was this that trip? I think he had also suggested West and I come meet him and spend a week . . . wherever he was. Was I supposed to cart my child off to Denver? When?

And no, it wasn't my fault I couldn't remember the details around this. Skylar made the baffling choice to tell me about these plans when I was in the middle of my fourth rewatch of Heated Rivalry. So sue me for being too busy believing in and celebrating love to listen to what my husband had to say to me.

I went to bed alone on Monday evening and at this point I was getting really worried. I decided if he didn't come home by Wednesday, I would just call him and fess up. I would obviously insist he share the blame because that's only fair.

He started doing a new thing recently where if he's going to tell me something really important he makes me look him in the eyes and he says, "I'm about to tell you something I need you to commit to memory." Then he tells me the thing and makes me say it back to him in my own words so he can confirm I've digested the information.

He obviously didn't do that when he told me about the Denver trip. Honestly, as I now write this out, I'm realizing how absolutely irresponsible he was being. And to think he was probably going to blame ME for this miscommunication if he ever discovered it.

On Tuesday evening I suddenly got a text.

"Just landed."

I snapped West into his car seat and rushed to our vehicle like my wife just went into labor and we had practiced all of this.

Fifteen minutes later Skylar tossed his luggage into the back of the car and climbed into the passenger's seat.

"Did you miss me?" he asked, smiling.

"Terribly," I told him, with a kiss.

"We were starting to worry you'd never come back."

~It Just Gets Stranger