It’s my Friday night, Reader, even though it’s only Thursday for the rest of you working stiffs. I’ve actually got a day off from Tiny Town to TCB. In which TCB means shopping and getting my nails did. But first, I’m going to pick My Mister up from the airport at the god-awful-early hour of 6:30 a.m. or something sinful like that. Don’t tell me I’m not a good girlfriend. I won’t believe it.
My Mister has been in sunny California for the week, being an exhibitor at some sort of trade show for some venture he’s cooking up. I had big plans while he was gone. Here’s what I discovered:
- I’m too frightened in the house by myself to watch my favorite t.v. show, Walking Dead. I tried to turn it on Sunday night, but realized that was just tomfoolery and I’d never get a wink of sleep, so I’ve left it in untouched in the DVR where it shall remain until his return. We’ll be watching it by 7:15 a.m. tomorrow morning.
- I made a huge mistake – HUGE – by watching a documentary-type thing about the Cheshire Murders, which is the true store about the well-to-do family who was home-invaded and then vagina-invaded and then all three of the females were killed while the poor dad had to hop his way out of the basement, and that’s the only way he survived. I found out far far far too many details, details I did not need to know while I was alone in the house. The break-in happened around 3:00 a.m., and let me tell you, I was on high alert the closer that hour got. I was a jumpy jumping bean the first few nights alone, and it still freaks my shit out when the cat goes from napping in a curl on my lap to bolting upright and staring past my shoulder. At nothing. Or is it?? I don’t know, but she did it tonight and I was afraid to look over my shoulder for a good ten minutes, and when I didn’t get bludgeoned in the head I figured it was safe. It was, obvi, or you wouldn’t be enjoying (ahem.) this right’cheer.*
- I’m very lazy when left to my own devices. I like to blame My Mister for my lazy lazy ways, and I had big plans to be 10 lbs. skinnier this week from all the time I was going to log at the gym, and none of that happened. Not even a minute. I did eat steak one night and enjoyed a pizza tonight by myself in front of the telly. I consider that a win. A different type of win, but hey, who makes the rules on winning anyway. Oh, that’s right, Charlie Sheen does. Since I didn’t have a week of hookers and blow, maybe it wasn’t really a win after all. Hm.
- My house is much much much cleaner when My Mister is not around. This place is nearly spic & span. I spent an hour one night this week straightening it all up and giving the floors a quick whore’s bath, and it looks shiny and nice in here. I’ve even made the bed every morning and it’s super nice to come home to a tidy place.
- I had oatmeal for dinner last night. At 10:30. In bed. Loved it.
- The cats are bored out of their gourds without their daddy home during the day. They have knocked more shit over this week than ever before. They pulled the curtains down off of the window Tuesday night. They knocked over the hamper today, some towels were in the foyer when I got home, and the baby dragged the lid off of an angel food cake and helped himself. And that’s just what I remember. Every night I’ve had some sort of a cat-astrophy to clean up when I’ve gotten home.
- It took very little time to become accustomed to sleeping diagonal in the king sized bed. I hope I can learn to share again.
*right-cheer. Read that in the voice of Andy Griffith, please. It will be much more fun that way.