This weekend, I promised to bury myself away in my house and write, and dream, and color.
This weekend is all about me.
I got my Netflix in the mail.
iTunes will be strictly playing my 'calm and thinking' music.
I went on my own hunting extravaganza and found my bright red nail polish.
My sketch pad is within arms reach at any given moment.
I get the couch and bed all to myself. I can sprawl out in odd, strange, and unbeknown areas.
I don't have to cook.
Two big novels sit in front of me just waiting to be cracked open.
And my parents even let me borrow their bus, I mean, blazer, so I could go anywhere I want, whenever I want.
It's just me, my puppy, and Carrie Bradshaw.
Girls weekend alone.
I am so excited.
I get home from work, and, since I don't have to worry about my husband needing to back out in the morning, I park across the entire driveway. There I was, taking up the whole dang thing, not a worry in my mind.
I unlock the door, greet my squirming pup, and turn on the heat.
It's late already, so I decide to relax in front of the tube. I put my Sex and the City into the player.
I'm hungry. Nothing to eat. Call Chinese.
My feet are cold.
Tired. So tired. Going to bed.
Get up at 5:30, take pup downstairs, morning ritual.
Go to work. Late.
Late, why?
Late, because nothing went as easily as previously stated.
I parked the car carelessly, all because I thought I had the freedom to do so, since I was the only one occupying it this weekend.
And it took me twenty minutes to back out of the driveway.
I didn't sleep well. I forgot to lock the door behind me, and didn't have anyone to go down in the middle of the night to double check.
I also forgot to turn the heat down.
Not to mention, I didn't sleep well, because the natural balance of my body kept waking me up warning me that I was ready to fall off the bed.
There was no barricade on my right side to prevent me from straying too far. I nearly rolled out of bed three times.
And when I was hungry and wanting to relax the night before?
I couldn't figure out the DVD player, and Chinese only delivers a $15 minimum.
I had to order $15 dollars worth of take-out food. That's almost four meals.
Lena, my puppy, was so incredibly annoying, that I couldn't relax at all. She kept whining, and pacing, and nudging, and it drove me absolutely nuts.
I let out an exasperated sigh.
But it fell on absent ears. There was no one there to interpret my anxiety and take the responsibility of letting her out.
Any time I tried to write, she was directly below me, chewing, and whining, and nudging.
She refused to walk up the stairs to bed by herself.
I had to carry my 50-something-pound wriggling Labrador to her royal sleeping chamber.
She refused to walk up the stairs to bed by herself.
I had to carry my 50-something-pound wriggling Labrador to her royal sleeping chamber.
When I let her out the next morning, she refused to go outside. Instead, she just sat and cried.
I couldn't figure it out.
I finally realized...
I'm not doing it right.
My husband lets the puppy out every morning. Her routine is the only thing she knows.
And the only thing I know.
She eats first, and then goes out...
But, only he would know that.
I forgot how much I rely on him...
He would have known how to back the car out.
He would have investigated the bumps in the night, and made sure the doors were locked so his girls were safe.
He would have been on the other side of me, on the couch, or in bed, to make sure my feet had his spare body warmth or protect me from catapulting off the edge of the mattress.
He would know how to work the DVD player, and he would have eaten more than half the order I was forced to place for take out.
He would have interpreted my profuse sigh and dealt with Lena without dispute.
He would have carried her up the stairs, or used his deep, booming man voice to order her off the floor.
He would have carried her up the stairs, or used his deep, booming man voice to order her off the floor.
He knows her morning protocol and knows what makes our pup happy and content.
He knows what makes me happy and content.
I miss my man, everything is a lot easier when he's home.
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