kethrai's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Honey, I love you. Now get out. One of the things I never anticipated before I got married was that I would never, ever be alone again. Well, yeah, you’re thinking and this is a revelation how???? No, seriously. The thing is, while I really am a people person, and most of the time before I got married I was looking for company to spend time with, I always had my own space to retreat to and be quiet in. I lived on my own, sans roomies or family or any other house-sharing personage, from the time I was 20 until I was 27. That was enough time to get settled in my ways, trust me. However busy I got outside my home, I knew there was a quiet place to retreat to. One of the pieces of fallout from the Darling Husband’s horrible no-job situation is that he is home ALL THE TIME. I mean, like me, he’s kind of a homebody as well. And I’m not denying that this can be useful—I can call home mid-day and say things like “I forgot to mail that package off! Can you take it out to the post office?” and it gets done. And while neither of us is much of a housekeeper, and he even less so than I, there are certain things that he’s taken over and on the frequent weeks when I’m doing over 80 hours of work a week, it makes life easier. But he’s ALWAYS THERE. There are certain things I’ve always been a bit self-conscious about doing in front of an audience. I’ve always been a slob, and battles royale raged throughout my childhood about the state of my room. Being a stubborn little thing (Yeah, NSR, you don’t have to make that faux-surprised face) I was damnded if I was going to clean up on someone’s sayso while they stood over me. I don’t even like anyone else in the HOUSE when I’m cleaning. Besides, I’m not particularly good at it, and I am not one to flash my worst skills in front of an audience. I do reach a state of total chaos that bothers even me, but if anyone’s going to stand there and watch and critique and tell me where to put things? Hold onto the handbasket rail, darling, because I’m about to punt you straight to hell. Guess who’s not cleaned in a while? Like, a long while? I like to watch soppy movies by myself, too. I really really like watching soppy movies by myself. I’m more of an SBU chick most of the time—it’s when I’m alone that I like to watch old Audrey Hepburn movies and sigh wistfully. It’s not the sort of thing that I’m willing to do in front of anyone, even if they do know that I’m a sentimental slob at heart, as the Darling Husband undoubtedly does. I talk silly to the kitty when I’m by myself. I can’t sing—although I was taught properly, I have a nasty break in the middle of my range—so being the sort of person I am, I simply don’t sing. Except when I’m by myself, and I catch myself four verses in, singing “Hey, Good Looking” to my orange tabby, who while not tone-deaf, is sublimely indifferent to anything I say, let alone what I sing. I eat differently when I’m by myself. English muffin pizzas, cold cereal for dinner. The Darling Husband is usually up for just about any food I serve up to him (remember his ma’s cooking? Yup. He’ll eat anything as long as it doesn’t have an actual biohazard sign on it.) I tend to pick what’s quick and easy, but sometimes I simply make some of the things that he’s not all that fond of. All of this is not to say I don’t enjoy having the Darling Husband around—I definitely do. I like him and his company. But when he’s THERE, 24-7, always in the house, there are certain parts of me that just don’t get to stretch and play much. He’s on a four day business trip right now. Gone to NYC, left Tuesday in the oh-dark-hundred AM, and will probably be getting back late Friday night or early Saturday morning. His kitty is having a nervous breakdown—follows me around with round anxious eyes and wails at me. Fitzie is a Daddy’s Boy, and even though I let him crawl under the covers with me last night, he still is not comforted when Daddy is away. I'm cleaning a little. Sewing. Washing dishes--no, I'm not good at that either. I have a soppy movie lined up for tonight. I'll be glad when he's back. But I'm thinking of encouraging him to take up shooting pool, or something. 6:26 p.m. - 2002-09-26 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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