10. Go to sleep in the recliner in the living room at 8:30 p.m. with the cat draped across my lap, thus providing a very scary glimpse into an alternative reality in which I actually did become and The Creep Old Cat Lady.
9. Eat takeout for every meal. Chinese is the breakfast of champions.
8. Call 911 after mistaking the sound of the cat scratching in the litter box for a gang of convicts breaking into the house to rape and murder me. Twice.
7. Watch Sunday night's episode of True Blood again, never once having to respond to the husband asking me: "Haven't you seen this already?" (In case you were wondering. Yes, I've seen it before. Just like he's watched Star Wars 10,000 times. But I'm not judging or bitter or anything.)
6. Convince myself that some major appliance (most likely the air conditioner) is broken and about to set the house on fire. And because we're the kind of people who I'm betting don’t even own a smoke detector – much less replace batteries in one – I will die in the fire with the three dogs. The cat will be only one smart enough to escape.
5. Call the husband 17 times during his meeting to ask him if we have smoke detectors and when was the last time we changed the batteries.
4. Convince myself the husband has befallen some sort of tragedy and is too incapacitated to answer the phone. I knew that we should have gotten the oil changed in the Civic before he drove to the other side of Texas. Now, he's dead in a ditch somewhere because the engine ran out of oil, locked up and forced him into oncoming traffic. Why, god, why? Because we're the kind of people that don't perform proper smoke detector maintenance!
3. Call husband for the 18th time. I'll just let it ring for a while. If it were an accident, why wouldn’t some at the hospital call me? (Ring.) Because its not an accident, that's why! (Ring.) He's with another woman! (Ring.) Someone younger and beautiful! (Ring.) That dirty, husband-seducing tramp. (Ring.) I'll pull her Brett Michael hair extensions out! (Ring.)
2. Husband will answer his phone after pretending to not feel it vibrate for the billionth time. In a hushed tone he will say something along the lines of: MY GOD, WOMAN. HAS THE HOUSE BURNED DOWN? (Not yet.) ARE YOU HAVING A MEDICAL EMERGENCY? (No.) DID THE DOG SWALLOW ANOTHER GLASS EYEBALL? (Not that I know of, but maybe. I'm not sure.) WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? (Mental illness, probably.) I AM TRYING TO GIVE A PRESENTATION HERE. (Yeah, yeah. You're important, I know.) AND I CANT FOCUS. I WILL CALL YOU BACK AFTER ITS OVER. OKAY? (Fine.)
1. Refocus all my death-destruction-fire energy writing a blog entry that the husband will find neither entertaining nor funny.
9. Eat takeout for every meal. Chinese is the breakfast of champions.
8. Call 911 after mistaking the sound of the cat scratching in the litter box for a gang of convicts breaking into the house to rape and murder me. Twice.
7. Watch Sunday night's episode of True Blood again, never once having to respond to the husband asking me: "Haven't you seen this already?" (In case you were wondering. Yes, I've seen it before. Just like he's watched Star Wars 10,000 times. But I'm not judging or bitter or anything.)
6. Convince myself that some major appliance (most likely the air conditioner) is broken and about to set the house on fire. And because we're the kind of people who I'm betting don’t even own a smoke detector – much less replace batteries in one – I will die in the fire with the three dogs. The cat will be only one smart enough to escape.
5. Call the husband 17 times during his meeting to ask him if we have smoke detectors and when was the last time we changed the batteries.
4. Convince myself the husband has befallen some sort of tragedy and is too incapacitated to answer the phone. I knew that we should have gotten the oil changed in the Civic before he drove to the other side of Texas. Now, he's dead in a ditch somewhere because the engine ran out of oil, locked up and forced him into oncoming traffic. Why, god, why? Because we're the kind of people that don't perform proper smoke detector maintenance!
3. Call husband for the 18th time. I'll just let it ring for a while. If it were an accident, why wouldn’t some at the hospital call me? (Ring.) Because its not an accident, that's why! (Ring.) He's with another woman! (Ring.) Someone younger and beautiful! (Ring.) That dirty, husband-seducing tramp. (Ring.) I'll pull her Brett Michael hair extensions out! (Ring.)
2. Husband will answer his phone after pretending to not feel it vibrate for the billionth time. In a hushed tone he will say something along the lines of: MY GOD, WOMAN. HAS THE HOUSE BURNED DOWN? (Not yet.) ARE YOU HAVING A MEDICAL EMERGENCY? (No.) DID THE DOG SWALLOW ANOTHER GLASS EYEBALL? (Not that I know of, but maybe. I'm not sure.) WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? (Mental illness, probably.) I AM TRYING TO GIVE A PRESENTATION HERE. (Yeah, yeah. You're important, I know.) AND I CANT FOCUS. I WILL CALL YOU BACK AFTER ITS OVER. OKAY? (Fine.)
1. Refocus all my death-destruction-fire energy writing a blog entry that the husband will find neither entertaining nor funny.
3 comments:
Ok, now I am depressed. Mainly because I am going to become the crazy dog lady with no husband. That is soooo funny.
Ok I totally understand this blog...I got a little wacked out when my hubby was in another state when we first moved to TX and he would come over on the weekends until he found a job in TX. It gets easier the longer you have to stay by yourself.
-Catfish
Arie, are you inside my head? That sounds exactly like me when Brian is out of town, minus the cat. When he flies somewhere without me, I literally get sick to my stomach worrying that something will happen.
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