Stephen is out of the country for a week, and Abby and I are trying not to notice that the two of us sort of rattle around the house in his absence.
I was prepared to get up for every-morning wake-up duty, to remember to put out the trash and recycling on Thursday, to let the dogs in and out, to water the garden. I was even looking forward to the solitude after bedtime to watch Jane Austen movies, catch up on some blogging and scrapbooking, and do all of my nagging home improvement projects that involve putting holes in the sheet rock.
What I did not realize was how much I depend on unloading the details of the day on my patient and always-interested husband. I catch myself making mental notes all day long of things I would say to him over dinner: Abby got under the covers and pretended to sleep in her big girl bed this afternoon, I paid our credit card bill today, the dogs threw up in their bed last night, the squash plant has a flower on it.
There’s a loneliness in having all these details in my head with no one to share them with. But no one else needs (or wants) to know the minutiae of our days, and the details are so minute that it feels silly to keep a list of them to bombard Stephen with eight days from now.
It is good timing that I am off of Facebook right now, or I would probably flood the News Feed of all my friends and acquaintances with non-essential status updates: Eating lunchmeat and tortillas for dinner! Three babies named Bella in the nursery this morning! Abby fell off a chair and bumped her head!
Okay, it feels pretty good to write a blog about all those details no one wants to hear about. I’m feeling better already.
I forgot to mail off the Netflix envelope!
Oops. NOW I’m really finished.