This week, my husband has been (and will continue to be) half a world away. There are no kids, there is no husband, we have no dog. Just me. In the house. Yup.
No cable, the Wii remote is dead, so I can’t watch Netflix and can’t seem to remember to stop and buy batteries. There’s a lot of the sound of blood rushing through my ears. A lot of me talking to myself. It’s not all bad, I’m getting some things done. I actually re-caulked our shower all by myself! Pretty impressive.
Ladies, don’t let anyone tell you that you need a man to do things around the house. I’m known to do some pretty intense home projects when my husband is out of town. The picture here is from a bathroom project I started when he was gone around this time last year. That is not the color of my hair, and I’m a little pastier than normal because I’m covered in a combination of sawdust and joint compound (spackle, mud, whatever you call it) dust. You can see the white patches on the walls in the background. That’s my handiwork.
I’m kind of impressed with what I’m getting done. It’s weird, when I have lots of time like this, I never do the things I want to. I never paint or draw or go for walks, or even read books (which I really need to, but I can’t bring myself to do it). I seem driven to only clean and improve the house. Do all the things that bother me, but I don’t have the time to do them. Like shampoo the couch, reorganize the linen cabinet, or do a disgusting amount of laundry.
I’m eating all the things I don’t eat when everyone is here, like asparagus, I had some chile lime swai (fish) and tomato soup with an epic grilled cheese. But even with the healthy or rarely eaten soul food, and household accomplishments, it’s boring. And I miss my husband. I like that guy for some reason.