'til now, i never got by on my own
After a week away from home, my Tool Man returned Friday afternoon. I promptly put him to work by sending him running off to the store for treats for me, vacuuming, carting a child off to a birthday party, and cooking for us.
And that's just for starters!
No. I'm kidding. I made out with him, ordered us a little Chinese food for lunch, made out with him again during the 10 minute wait we had for our order (Question - is this 10 minute wait for Chinese food universal? Oh, that life could always be as efficient and packed with the tasty delicious goodness that is hot and sour soup!), and THEN I made him do all those things (plus more!) listed above.
Listen, the dude owed me and I made out with him, so it wasn't like I was cracking a whip. Because we're not into that, OK? I mean, a little spank here and there is fine by me, but I've got a line, and the line says no whips.
By the end of the night, when Tool Man and I collapsed, exhausted from all the making out, so we called it a day and drifted off to sleep. Well, Tool Man did, but it took me a bit longer because Loaner Dog was all up on me, batting her bulging Shih Tzu eyes at me, trying to get a little from me. I shouldn't have to do this, people, but just let me remind you that there's a line.
Early Saturday, while I was still sleeping, Tool Man grabbed our two adorable lug nuts, and together, they ran away from home. Before you can say, "Well of course they did, Hottie! You make him work too hard when he gets home from his tough man job. Hell, I'd run away, too!", let me say that this: (A) You've not seen my kick ass rack, and if you had, the only direction you'd be running is toward it, and (B) it was a planned Man Weekend that they were all looking forward to (but not as much as me). Their departure meant I was going to be home alone (albeit with one horny little dog) for THREE GLORIOUS DAYS of silence, and had I been awake, I'd have pushed them out the door even sooner than they pushed themselves.
My plan during this reprieve from my wifely and motherly duties was to go off the grid for the entire weekend, kind of like Jason Gedrick did in Iron Eagle, when he and his band of ragtag warriors infiltrated the United States military with the help of a hard on the outside, soft on the inside Louis Gossett Jr. (aka 'the poor man's Morgan Freeman'), stole a fighter jet and flew a daring rescue mission to save his father. But you know what they say about best laid plans, right? That's right. So if you and I shared an IM conversation or bantered in emails back and forth at any time this past Saturday or Sunday, just don't blow my cover, OK? As far as these other people know, I sat in the breeze in my narcolepsy chair, finished reading Stephanie Klein's hilariously funny and gut wrenching book, Moose, and spoke to no other living soul for two days.
(Backpacking Dad? Listen to this tape when no one else is around, OK? I think if you wait just a minute or two, the rest of the people here will skim by this parenthetical call-out, then it'll be fine. OK. Now. I just want to say it was truly an honor to fly with you Sunday, and you should know that I would proudly suit up and take the the skies again, for the safety and honor of our people. You are a man of great fortitude and random movie knowledge, and I slept a bit more soundly last night knowing you're out there. Sincerely, Col. Nippley)
I enjoyed my first day of solitude pretty much living up to my dreams. However, if you've been around here awhile, you know I don't particularly enjoy being home alone at night, so Saturday morphed well into Sunday before I braced myself for sleep, which I couldn't even begin to try for without checking to see if the front door was locked (again!). When I did, I spotted something in my yard, and let out a bit of a scream, causing the thing to look at me (with evil red eyes!), and then run away.
Bunnies tend to do that when you make sudden loud noises.
So now it's Monday, my final day of solitude. I've slept fitfully for two nights, never cracked a book, watched enough television to kill me, have no good anecdotes from which to blog about, haven't used my voice in two and a half days, and fear the couch cushion may be adhered to my ass after Pantless Sunday (Why get dressed when you're just going to have to put pajamas on in two hours anyway? Walking up the stairs takes energy, y'all).
Wait! I feel it should be noted that the couch cushion wouldn't be adhered to my ass because I spent the day without any pants on (yes, Backpacking Dad, I fly with no pants on. I guess I should have told you that while we were somewhere over the Med). It would be because I barely moved from one spot on it. I mean, you got that, right? You understood what I meant?
So today I intend to pack a ton in the few hours of solitude which remain before I must go to work and my family returns. I must banishing bunnies, refuel the jet, and finish books. But first I need to pry myself off the couch and put some pants on.
Labels: how's that Chappy?