When the Cat's Away

When I mentioned that my husband was out of town, my coworker got a faraway look in her eye and asked dreamily, "What do you like to do?  You know, when he's gone?"

Great question.  First, when I come home, I don't touch the TV.  That means no Simpsons, no Family Guy.  Oh glory.  I wash my face, and wash the dishes.  Then I stand back and think about how when I come home from work the next day, the dishes will still be clean.  Unless I dirty some.  And even then, I know what to expect upon my arrival.  

Chinese Food.  Like, three times a day.  When Marky and I are struggling to decide where to grab lunch on our days off together, I always suggest Chinese.  Then he always says, in a startlingly Canadian tone, "You know?  Honestly?  Can we choose something else?"  He says it every time I suggest Chinese, to the point that I suggest Chinese, even when I feel like a sandwich, just to hear him say it.  I finally let him in on the joke recently, and he has since changed his reply to, "Eat a dick." I wish I was kidding.  So, back to the Chinese.  I like it all.  Fried rice, orange chicken, chow mein, kung pao, can't get enough.  Oh, and I save so much in dishes using the takeout carton and chopsticks.  Mmm.  I'm getting hungry. 

I watch musicals.  I just finished the Barbra version of A Star is Born.  Last time he was gone, it was the Judy version.  Marky isn't the type to complain if I really needed to watch a musical, but the minute he fell asleep (and that would be minute three), I would feel guilty about boring him.  

Knitting.  Unabashedly, unapologetically.  I could knit for 6 hours if I wanted.  Then take a nap and knit for a couple more.  I knit during the musical.  No one is there to tell me I missed something on the screen.  It doesn't matter.  Well, I think my women's intuition told me to pause each time Kris Kristofferson ripped his shirt off, though.  I like to knit and have a musical playing in the room.  I think that might be what heaven is like.  

I come up with crazy ideas, like trying out for a wedding band, growing tomatoes on the deck, and clipping the cat's nails by myself.  Sometimes these things end badly, but no one needs to know.  

After all that fun, I have a terrible time falling asleep.  The bed is half empty, and I had no one to make me laugh all evening.  In the morning, there's no one to tell me the weather forecast, and that I should think about wearing a jacket.  When I draw a little heart in the surface of my pudding, I'm the only one who sees it.  Thank goodness he'll be home tomorrow.