Husband is going to yet another fancy conference for smart people who design things.
That’s not what it’s called, of course, but he explained it to me* and I literally felt the 16% of my brain that had been active fuck off and go looking for trouble.
But! Did I let my ignorance stand in the way of my god-given right to complain?
You know I didn’t.
ME: (trailing him through the obnoxious chocolates section of our grocery) I can’t believe you’re abandoning me on Valentine’s Day!
NEARBY SHOPPERS: (judge the crap out of him)
HIM: It’s not on Valentines!
HIM: (pulls me down soup aisle) I’ll be back way before Valentines. I’m leaving on—
ME: You can’t even let me have this. A perfectly good huff, and you had to go and ruin it with facts and dates and things. Gah!
HIM: I’m… sorry?
ME: You should be.
All of this to say he’ll be gone for a few days next week… I forget which ones,** so I guess we’ll all be surprised together.
Ooh, and in the meantime I need to get some provisions laid in, make a plan for entertaining myself, etcetera. I know it’s been a while, but surely you all remember how poorly I handle my shit when left alone for even a few days—and this time, Offspring isn’t here to keep me properly dressed, or fed, or make sure I don’t walk into doors when I forget to open my eyes because I’m just that goddamned tired.
Is this why people have more than one kid? Fear of being left alone while their partner is out of town? I mean, it makes sense, but I’m doing the math and I could probably pay someone to stay with me (like a professional, not a creepy craigslist find) for waaaaaay less than the cost of diapers and daycare and school fees and shit. Just sayin’.
* Gushed. He gushed and enthused. He’s so fucking excited about this one and I can’t even remember what it’s for.
** Truly, I should train a few neurons to tune in when he starts talking about… whatever it is he talks about that makes me wonder when the new season of The Crown is coming.