This is what I do for fun.
I'm batching it for the next six weeks while Matt's away being a famous writer in San Diego. Perhaps it's due to our old schedules (he'd leave early, I'd get home late, really only see each other on weekends) but so far the separation hasn't been as traumatic as I thought.
For me.
The cats on the other hand...
Val, the big black one, seems to think that I have hidden daddy somewhere in our tiny one-bedroom apartment and if she just yells for him loud enough he'll come out. (Apparently hidden daddies find this particularly helpful around 3 a.m.) Tinkerbell, on the other hand, has gone into mourning and hasn't come out from under the bed since he left. (I did catch her tiptoeing toward the cat food bowl when I got home last night so I'm not too concerned.) Trying to explain daddy's absence to creatures who don't speak Engli-- scratch that. Trying to explain daddy's absence to creature who don't speak is a little trying. It involves an abundance of mime and awkward finger gestures but I still don't think they're getting it.
As much as I love having my man around, I'd be big fat fibber if I didn't say there were certain benefits...
Being able to stretch out over the entire bed, for one.
The ability to fart as loud as I want is also quite freeing.
Groceries are a hell of a lot cheaper when you're only buying for one person, which makes me feel less guilty about my weekly farmer's market tomato splurges. (I won't tell you how much those tomatoes cost me each week... Okay, I'll tell you. $10. For 5 tomatoes. The only other time I've spent that much on produce was last summer's $21 lettuce debacle. Matt would shit a brick if he knew I spent $10 a week on tomatoes, but like I said, he ain't here.)
'Scuse me while I go fart on his side of the bed. (Whatchu gonna do about it, sucka?!)
posted by Ali @ 9:16 AM
6 Comments:
Our baby will have no shoes, woman!
You'll have tomatoes, oh yes, but our baby will be without shoes!
- Deadbeat Dad
Your pregnant! I haven't been around in ages. I'm just hitting the 5 month mark and my sickies have been bad for the past 4 months.
Love Liz Lange's stuff. I have the black capris and jean capris.
Yay for fart freedom! I don't know why I bother to be polite with flatulence when my husband is around. He never seems to afford me the same courtesy. Who needs a french horn with gas pipes like that?
What are you talking about? Ladies don't fart. At least that's what my wife says...
You know Ted, to be fair to your wife's point of view, it may not actually be farting on the part of women. Let's say men fart and women toot. I believe a man's fart is the hazardous by-product of all the crazy things he has decided to eat in one day. Most days I am able to accurately guess what my husband had for lunch strictly by the evidence of his 8 p.m. release. A woman's toot is more air realignment. It is no secret that women talk more than men. In the process, we gulp in air. Because burping would interrupt our ability to talk more, we occasionally have to kick the excess air out the back door. No toxicity. Just warmer air than it may have been originally.
Lisa just made me laugh so hard I tooted.
Just you wait, my dear. In a few more months that toot will be coupled with a tinkle. The joys of pregnancy.
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