Slip sliding away

With The Boy in university, I hardly ever see him. Suppers, movies and the odd event out. And that’s ok – he’s 18, that’s how it is supposed to be. The Girl has a busy social life, so you’d think I’d be on my own quite a bit, but that isn’t the case.

There is a lot of driving to do with the girl, and I have lots of things on my plate, so when she’s out I seem to have lots to get done, and by the time I’m done and ready for a few minutes to myself she’s back. Not complaining – as evidenced by many entries in the blog, I’ve been blessed with pretty good kids. But still, it’s nice when a night comes along where it’s just me.

Like last night, for instance. The Girl was in Saskatoon at a concert, and when it was done she went to her dad’s (he was the chauffeur) so as not to wake me up. So I had an evening all to myself. Woot!

There are SO many things you can do when it’s just you. You can:

Have a drink in the bath before you make any decision about whether or not you can be bothered to make anything for supper. Maybe the drink is enough?

Practice for dance class for your workout, and wear your coin belt the whole time. Dancing when you know no one else is around is an exercise in abandonment. Delicious.

Sing out loud when you’re doing the dishes.

Skip the dishes, and just sing.

Spend the evening wearing an oversized sweater, undies and over-the-knee pirate boots.

Work on a jig-saw puzzle watching a BBC show no one else likes.

Sit at the computer and play games and send email because no one else needs the computer.

What you CAN’T do is race outside in previously mentioned outfit to grab a book from the car. Ok, yes, you can. You just shouldn’t. Not when it’s dark, and snowing and icy. And your next door neighbour is a co-worker. And the boots have no grip (which is crazy; surely you’d need treads for slippery decks?), but lots of heel (for climbing the rigging?) and you’re not the most heel-savvy person. You really shouldn’t.

Which reminds me, I have a question for you married folks: if something were to happen where you ended up scraping the back of your thigh at the top, given that going to the doctor is out of the question (because you KNOW the only two doctors at the walk-in clinic will be older lecturing doctor or young handsome laughing doctor that sorted things out when a plate broke your nose), do you get your spouse to make sure all the splinters and grit are gone, or do you just shower it off and hope for the best?