I’m always taken aback when a gal says something like “Jeremy and I have been married for a year and this is the first night we’ve spent apart!” Seriously? In an entire year one of you didn’t have occasion to go someplace without the other? Not that you wanted to get away, but in the course of living your lives you didn't have to go on a business trip or there wasn't far-off family to visit and your spouse didn't have the vacation days to spare? I've heard that line often enough, and it's ever sounded rather pathetic and codependent. (Eyeroll face, for independence is, like, my nurtured knack.)
Jim and I have been married a bit over a month and he had to go out of town. I am spending two nights without him. And I’m fine. I miss him, yes, yes, and I send mawkish texts and he sends mawkish texts, and I wish he were here instead of there, but real, grown-up life means that you don’t always get to spend every night with your significant other even if you’re technically newlyweds.
It just occurred to me that I need ice cream. I’m going to go root around and see what I can come up with. Hold please . . .
Okay, handled. It appears I polished off with the mint chocolate chip a few days ago, so vanilla was my only option. Boring. I like my ice cream to have lots of stuff in it. I think you should be able to chew your ice cream. So I spiced up what we had with add-ins. Butterscotch chips, chocolate syrup, whatever I could find. Now finished, I can say that my dessert was satisfactory, by which I mean that I will regret eating it.
After yoga yesterday, I spent last night, my first solo night as Jim's wife, unwrapping new yoga clothes that came in the mail, trying on the clothes, liking half, and writing “send back yoga clothes” on my to-do list. I caught up on So You Think You Can Dance via Hulu. I did a charcoal/black sugar mask. I had frozen yogurt for dinner; actually with the amount of add-ins I dump in there, it was more like a bucket of candy with a little froyo mixed in. I roasted some artichokes (gag) for Dustin. I logged my calls.
This morning I went to yoga. On the way home I swung through the grocery store because we were out of rice vinegar (totally unacceptable in this household; without vinegar all the vegetables in the fridge will rot 'cause ain't nobody eatin' 'em), Dustin mentioned he likes Asian pears, so I thought I’d be rad and hook him up, and the fridge didn’t have any cauliflower in it. After the groceries were put in their place and Brussels sprouts were roasting, I did laundry. All day I did laundry. (New for me.) Five, maybe six, loads. Not even all of it is folded yet. Will be before I go to bed though. See, there’s a season of Psych on Netflix that I haven’t seen yet and Shawn and Gus will keep me company as I fold what’s left of the stuff.
While the laundry laundered I cleaned out and organized the laundry room. Even though Jim and I got a ton of house stuff done before I moved in, there are still things that need doing. I knock the tasks off when I've got a few extra minutes and am out of avoidance tactics.
Tomorrow it's on to the fridges and freezers. Those cold boxes won't know what hit 'em.
Typing this out has been painful. My hands are slow on the keys. This because I took an aerial silks class this evening and even though it ended two hours ago my forearms are still trembling and my knuckles are tender to the touch and throbbing. Lifting the spoon to get the ice cream from bowl to mouth was grueling, but I’m no quitter, so shaky spoonful by shaky spoonful I handled that sugary soup with the resolve of a champion.