I wasn’t going to blog today. A mighty headachewith the strength of ten hurricanes and the wrath of forty scorned women felled me in no time flat this afternoon, rendering my world a haze of stabbing light, waves of nausea, and nearly intolerable skull pressure. I came home and flopped bonelessly onto the couch, where I stayed all through dinner.
After Wes left to go to school, I managed to pry myself off the couch in fifteen minute bursts, pausing every now and then to collapse back onto the couch with a towel full of ice cubes. It took me an hour to wash the dishes, but I got it done. Once I’d finished the dishes, blogging appeared to me to be a herculean effort. The idea of sitting upright to type left me winded, so I settled for lounging back to watch “Arrested Development” on Hulu.
Either Wes’ cooking or the hilarity of the show acted as a panacea, however, and I realized I could type! And I had things to say! Maybe nothing of any import, but when do I ever have anything truly important to say?
For example, I ran into this article today and it really irritated me. The author equates relativism with “becoming more Hindu” and it’s quite possibly the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. Just because some Americans agree with one statement from the many, many writings of Hinduism, it’s a ludicrous stretch to ascertain that “We are all Hindus Now.” Honestly, did they put a kindergartner in charge of Newsweek?
Also, Wes went away last weekend. Without me. To go hang out with a bunch of guys for a bachelor weekend. I didn’t write about this last week because I didn’t exactly want to publicize that I was staying all by me onesey, savvy? I missed him like burning, but thankfully for me I didn’t repeat my performance from the last time he left town. You know, the time I tried to make myself a margarita but made it too strong and ended up passed out on the couch all afternoon? And then decided sugar cookies would be a fine dinner?
That was a proud moment for me.
Yeah, because I guess I have to eat healthy and stuff I actually had to cook for myself while he was gone. This, for me, meant lots of eggs with random veggies thrown in. I am quite the grown-up, aren’t I?
He had way too much fun, most of the stories of which I’m sure I’ll never hear, but he’s back more or less in one piece so I’m a happy camper. It is tough being home alone, though. The house is too quiet, the bed too big, the dinners too strange. Wes would never let me get away with half the crap I ate together while he was gone (Eggrolls with a peach? Potstickers and peanut butter cookies? Denver omelette with pizza?). When I suggest that kind of stuff he always just looks at me askance and then scrounges something normal from the pantry.
The lesson I learned from the weekend? I’m entirely too strange to live alone. And I’m really glad Wes is home. And Newsweek is a disaster. The end.
Super brownie points for anyone who can tell me where the title for this post came from. I’m betting Wes will be the first to chime in, because I know he’ll get it, but I’m hoping someone will beat him to the punch.