I am a quasi-bachelorette this weekend. Wes left this morning to attend a family reunion in California and Doc and I have remained here to hold down the fort. I would have loved to go, but every time we leave Doc gets upset and eats something big and we’ve had quite enough of that, thank you so very much, so for the next couple days it’s just me and the pup.
In a way, I’ll admit I was excited to have the house to myself all weekend. I’ve been watching girlie shows non-stop and I haven’t had to close an errant closet door or fold a forgotten towel all day. I thought this would be a great time to just relax, get some work done, and stay low-key for a while.
It was a charming notion but the reality’s been a bit, umm, different. It turns out that without my man around, I’m a bit of a mess. For example, this afternoon I read an entire book for work and then decided to relax by reading a book for fun. Then I got antsy, so I took the dog to the dog park. When he was good and tired we went home and I sat down to read again.
After about five minutes I was antsy again so I gave the dog a bath. Once he was clean, I thought surely I’d be able to take it easy. Not really, because less than a chapter later I was in the kitchen making sugar cookies. Which I then ate for dinner.
Yes, in my almost three years of marriage I have apparently lost all will to feed myself. I’m going to have to force myself to prepare some kind of vegetable tomorrow night or Wes will come home to a scurvy-addled wife.
I forgot to mention earlier that at some point during the afternoon, I decided it was margarita time. I went to the kitchen and gathered the implements and then pondered: Exactly how much tequila does one put in a margarita?
So, I figured three was a good number and made a margarita with three ounces of tequila and an equal amount of margarita mix. It tasted right so I drank it happily, thinking that I could take care of myself just fine, thanks for asking.
Well, I’m apparently not suited to such a large drink because between the heat of the house (it was 79 degrees in our house for most of today) and my booze, I was asleep in about fifteen minutes. Yep, Wes had been gone less than four hours before I was passed out in the middle of the afternoon and eating cookies for dinner.
You may commence sympathy for him at any time.