I didn’t write about this earlier because, well, I thought it wasn’t the best idea to broadcast over the Internets I was home alone. But now I can, because I’m not.
See Mr. Gow was gone for two weeks.
I had the house to myself for two weeks.
And it never even crossed my mind to have drugs, drink or hookers.
Of course the hookers around here look like this…
That may be why it wouldn’t have entered my mind. But the drugs and drink? That’s just wrong.
Instead my mind was all about the quiet, TV and DVDs.
I thought about all the different foods I could eat without comments. (As if I bought the feta and yogurt for him. Yeah)
I couldn’t wait to be able to complete a whole thought.
I became giddy at the idea that when I left the room the same show would be on when I came back in.
My heart filled with joy at the knowledge that when I left the house it would be just the way I left it. That whatever mess was around was my own and not the mess of someone who just doesn’t care about cleaning up after themselves.
Then I read Karl’s post and I realized the sad truth.
I am getting old.
Drinking heavily and being hungover just seems like to much work old.
But the realization that I didn’t even consider partying it up was the real blow. That hurt. A whole bunch.
I try to consol myself with the thought that he probably didn’t do all of that.
He most likely just …
went for a walk…
had dinner with the guys…
kicked a couple back with friends…
and that was his four days.
But still. Not even thinking it. Well damn. Now I have to start planning something for next year. Something wild and crazy. A BloggerFalls maybe.
Anyone know where I can get a donkey and some H?