Call him...Call him not...Call him...Call him not....

Scott, being a wonderful husband, calls me once or twice a day since I left town. I, being a sweet, adoring wife, love to talk to my husband. Or, at least, that is how I think it ought to work and wish it would work. Sometimes it even does work that way. But just as often it seems I prefer talking to Chris or Mom or just about anyone besides Scott. If Chris is funny, I can just laugh. If Mom tells me what is going on at work, I can just listen. Either way I get to hang up the phone completely satisfied at having had a nice conversation. With Scott I have to spend a certain amount of each conversation wishing I were there or he were here and hang up unsatisfied with having only had a nice conversation. So the one person I most want to share things with is the one I least want to talk to.