It always happens, without fail. Just as soon as I finish a big project (like painting the refrigerator, re-decorating a bathroom, or installing a gallery wall) I get burnt out! Nothing’s getting me off the couch and away from my TV remote, for at least a week, mkay? Oh sure, my Country Living magazine came and SQUEE! So many fun things & ideas. But I still grab a handful of m&m’s and stretch out to watch some Dr. Who with The Hubs. And am promptly swarmed by four dogs & a cat, who eventually calm down and pass out with at least one limb touching my body, each. Maybe I’m like Bella in Twilight when she asks why Jasper hangs around her so much, and is told that it’s because he’s drawn to her calm, happy energy. Except instead of having sexy sparkly vampires glom onto me, it’s wriggling, corn-chip scented canines, who are determined to eat my popcorn and sit on my iPad. Still, it could be worse. I could be like The Hubs, who sits across from me night after night wondering why the dogs love their Mama most. Poor man! I prefer to think that they are just drawn to me because of my calm, happy energy, and not because I allow them to eat my popcorn and sit on my iPad.
…And that’s how someone completely forgets what they were talking about! Right, being burnt out. This might also have something to do with the fact that The Hubs found out last week that he is going to a 18-day military training course later this month. As in, he leaves in 6 days. 6 DAYS. I tend to vanish into the depths of despair when things like this are sprung on me. I’m fine by myself, I can handle the estate just fine when he’s gone on business trips & drill weekends. Chickens, dogs, cat, house, laundry, remembering to feed myself (although I don’t claim to feed myself well when alone. Eating Cheezits and a glass of wine for dinner is okay, right?). I can handle it, but it’s not easy. Sure, it’s nice to not have dishes piled haphazardly on the counter, dirty clothes piled on the floor, and shoes tossed by the door. I can forego shaving my legs and live in my extensive sweatpants collection and indulge in behaviors that I prefer to leave up to your imagination. A hidden camera in a gorilla exhibit would not get footage of better antics than me in my house when I think I’m alone. But this is 18 days we’re talking about. That’s WEEKS, people! This just got real (and I don’t even own 18 pairs of sweatpants).
All I can do in this kind of situation is 1. keep the doors locked, and 2. keep myself busy!
So consider this the calm before the storm. The collective breath before sh*t hits the fan. There will be painting! Re-arranging! Organizing! Power tools! I might even change a light fixture by myself! Who knows! This girl gets hella crazy when she lives on cheezits and wine for days straight.
At least I’m not the only one feeling the crunch. Yesterday, my reluctantly romantic husband took me shopping for my Valentine’s Day present (Yes, I pick out my own gifts! This was a mutually agreed-upon course of action after a decidedly embarrassing incident involving an unfortunate heart-shaped necklace. There may have been tears involved). Anyway, he took me to my most-favoritest (an appropriate phrase borrowed from my baby sister) store in the world, which is the Coach Store. Deliberations over which particular color of handbag to choose stretched out for so long, The Hubs actually offered to buy me two purses. So I know he’s freaking out about leaving, too, because what sane man buys his wife two purses on the same day?? I turned down his offer, because really! Who needs the exact same bag just in different colors? That’s crazy talk! This does absolutely NOT reflect on the fact that I have 5 other Coach bags already at home, because they are not the same bag. Obviously. But since he was willing to drop the dough, I picked out a ponytail scarf and keychain, too. Gift horse, mouth, and all that.
So I apologize for not dropping some pearls of wisdom on you. I haven’t painted anything, DIY-ed anything, bought anything for the house, re-arranged anything, re-purposed anything, or fixed anything since last week’s post, and I’m not intending to until sometime next week, after I scrape myself off the couch and out of a loneliness-induced stupor of trash TV and cheap wine.
P.S. Do you think The Hubs would be nervous if he knew that one of my plans for while he’s away involves knocking out a wall? It’s non-load bearing, I checked! At least I Googled it, which is basically the same thing.