Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Back to Wifehood (?)

My husband is on his way to the Cairo airport. He'll be home tomorrow afternoon if all goes well. I've seen and talked to him at length almost every day via Skype, so we haven't missed each other excessively.

Tonight is my last night of bachelorettedom. I had a quick but lovely home-cooked dinner with a girlfriend before rushing home to give the cats their medicine. After tonight, I won't have to do all the cat-nursing by myself.

Tomorrow, friends will stop asking me how I'm managing in kind, concerned, tones. I think my husband must have told everyone that I go off the deep end when he travels. And it's true that I whine, worry, and complain like the dickens before he leaves. But after he's gone, I deal.

And by now, after 10 days of doing mostly as I please, the transition back to wifehood is actually bothering me a little.

I will have to stop staying up until 2 am watching Masterpiece Theatre–type dramas. (So far: Daniel Deronda, The Buccaneers, I Capture the Castle, The Woman in White, The Pillars of the Earth, and, for a change of pace, Julie and Julia again. Enjoyed them all.) I'm wide awake between midnight and 2 am but half asleep the other 22 hours.

Friends won't offer to drive me long distances in pursuit of good cupcakes. They will stop delivering their own freshly baked, buttercream-frosted cupcakes to my door. There are still two cupcakes left, but not for long.

No more cheese-and-fruit plates for dinner. No more goat cheese ravioli with sun-dried tomatoes and olives.

No more dancing around the living room to early Beatles hits to get my 10,000 steps.

No more belting out "The Story" along with Brandi Carlile. (Sorry, neighbors.)

No more making the bed in under a minute because I sleep like a log when I'm alone.

The truth is, I can do almost all of these things when he's here. I'd just have to be more independent and less self-conscious. He can eat bad frozen Chinese entrées on the nights I'm eating goat cheese and olives.

Breaking news: he just emailed that his flight to Paris is delayed and he will likely miss his connecting flight to Boston. If he can't get home during the day tomorrow, he'll probably hit the snowstorm coming on Friday. He might be stuck in Paris (stuck in Paris? No, stranded in Paris is more accurate. Ah, Paris....) for awhile.

This is why I believe people should never travel in the wintertime.

And now I really MISS him. Sigh. 

So. Where are those cupcakes? And what's in the Netflix instant queue for tonight?

 P A R T Y ! !

1 comment:

  1. Wonderfully 'human' post...life's ups and downs and a treasure to each.

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