Mike is on a vacation, so I’m at home with the house (or what’s left of it, ha) to myself.
It’s kind of a funny feeling. He only left yesterday morning, but it feels like he’s been away forever. He called me from a hotel somewhere in Washington state, between Mount Ranier and Mount St. Helens, to tell me about his ride. It sounds beautiful, and he sounded relaxed and much too far away.
I’ve been hanging with the dogs and my girlfriends. Oh, and little Slim, here. Poor Slim’s keys are going to be worn right out. I know, I know – it’s 1:30! Why am I up? I have work to finish. I procrastinated and took on too much and if I’m perfectly frank this is the world’s most boring assignment but it’s money in the bank and I need to learn to set boundaries.
Oh, and maybe use punctuation.
Anyway. It’s funny being kind of single for a week, hanging with my only remaining single girlfriends. We haven’t gotten up to much that’s out of line – tonight we hit Ikea. I bought tea towels and scrub brushes and these kick-ass bendy cutting boards that Alton Brown always uses. I spent a whopping $25! I was going to buy shelves and put them up, but I had this moment of sheer horror at the thought that maybe one would be out of level, and I’d have put up slopey shelves, and what kind of a Renaissance woman would that make me?
Not a rager by any stretch of the imagination, but fun all the same. I guess ragers are different when you’re in your 30s? Maybe not. It’s kind of fun hanging out and not worrying about getting home for dinner (except to feed the puppies), or wondering if someone will mind if I make mashed cauliflower and garlic bread, instead of real food. (For the record, I did, for lunch, and it KICKED ASS, though i do not have a clue where my Parmesan cheese went and had to grate up a little Cheddar instead.)
Tomorrow, I think my female cohorts are going to drag me to see Johnny Depp on a big screen, alongside that bobble-head Keira Knightley (I liked her in Bend It Like Beckham, she was all spunky, but now she just looks like she needs a sandwich.) We’ll probably eat dinner somewhere and have some wine, and talk about how Johnny Depp can pull of scruffy like no one else can.
Fun, but there’s no way I’d want to do it all the time. I like my boy far, far too much, and I can’t wait till he’s back home safe, full of stories about his latest adventure.