14 January 2011

take a deep breath. . .

All hail the three-day weekend . . . why does a break from the routine feel so deeply needed when we haven't even been back at it for a month?  Tell me, please.
Perhaps it's because Richard's been gone since January 2nd.  But, really now, I can handle an only child alone, can't I? (OMG. I don't think she has stopped talking since he left. Help me.)
And then there was the, in hindsight, unnecessary trip to the vet and the unneeded medicine, IMHO, for an unwillining Luigi. "Put this salve in his eyes four times a day, ma'am."
Or maybe it's the amount of cold hard cash I handed over to the babysitter for the first week back when I was working and Young One's school was still in vacation mode. There goes the college fund.
Perhaps it was the moment I looked at the calendar with my students and realized that our deadlines are well within sight.
Or maybe it was the homesickness caused by this video, posted on FB by a family member. "Wish you were here." "Yeah, me too."
It could be the bad news received from our health insurance provider in the middle of December that I have put off investigating further. Snakes. It's in limbo; I don't do limbo well.
It could just be the workplace drama; it always seems to flare in January, after a long break. It was particulary bad for me this time.
Or was it the unwise choice to have a glance at the amortization schedule of our mortgage? We've handed over two and half years of payments on a 15 year mortgage and we still owe HOW MUCH?
It could be the January calorie cutting plan.
Quite possibly the phone conversation with him BEFORE he even got home about his upcoming travel-for-work obligations is what tipped the pot, finally.

Maybe I can't handle it alone.
Maybe I do need that man. Every.Single. Day.
Did I mention that she never stopped talking or needing me? She even slept with me, attached to my body while the cat slept above my head on my pillow.


He arrived home to an anxious and evil wife (and that's being kind) just in time to repack and drive to places further north for a weekend of fun in the snow with, count them, five other families -- that's 12 young children and 12 adults. That's just chaos. I am undecided on what it will do for my current mood, this chaos.

No, I won't be in the snow; rather, I'll be sipping tea or chocolate or schnapps (or whatever mind-altering beverage is available) in the lodge high in the Alps. I'll be the one hogging the fire. Leave me alone. Okay, so I have plans for a hike with another photography-loving friend, but that's about it.

And in case you are a big bad thief reading this notice that we won't be home, you should know that the alarm is set and the neighbors are watching, I mean really watching. . . closely. Have you met them? We have excellent neighborhood watch. AND the Carabiniere is right next door, not to mention his mean, really, really mean big dog. She's evil incarnate. I wouldn't mess with her.

And, Mr. Duncan, if you are reading this.  I am sorry & I do love you with all of my heart. And, no, I don't want you to go back where you came from. I want you here with me, and, PPPLLEEAASSEEE, with her.