Berck left a message on my phone around 11 a.m. this morning telling me to call him.

I don’t check my messages until I get off work at 3:30, so I gave him a call then but got his voice mail. He called me back about the time I got home.

“Well,” he said, “I’m in Minneapolis.”

The first thought that crossed my mind was that the motorhome took a wrong turn. And a pretty big one at that.

“What are you doing in Minneapolis?”

“I’m driving to Montana.”

Apparently, as soon as Berck arrived in Chicago early this morning, his sister Sydney told him they were going to Seattle to visit someone. When Berck explained that it would take three days to drive there and a good four hundred dollars in gas, she and her friend agreed to meet halfway somewhere in Montana. Berck is just going along for the ride, because he can’t very well return to OKC while Sydney is borrowing her car back for the weekend. That and he told me, “I had someone to drive around the country with when I was nineteen, and it seems like Sydney should too.”

So the new ETA for my honey is Tuesday night.

But I’ll believe that when I see it.

He sounded pretty groggy on the phone, having gotten next to no sleep in the motorhome. I’m hoping he’ll keep his part of the driving to an advisory role.

I’m not nearly as sleepy as my honey, but all I want to do right now is go to bed. And it’s only six-thirty, and the sun hasn’t set, but hey, I bet I can sleep for eleven hours…