Home Alone

I've been waiting for this all summer.

Larry is traveling up north with the boys to play a few gigs and visit with family. I can’t take another week off work, so I’m staying behind.

ALONE.

FOR A WHOLE WEEK.

Lalalalalalalalalala! 

A week!

Hi there, week, you are so pretty. No, YOU are. No YOU! 

A week of reading.

And thinking actual thoughts about what I'm reading. And maybe there will be more than two or three thoughts in a row, and maybe some of them will be about other things besides what I'm reading, who knows what I'm capable of ONLY TIME WILL TELL.

How much time? A WEEK.

A week of speaking in complete sentences.

Or better yet? NOT SPEAKING!

A week of living in a clean house.

(Getting aroused. Maybe should change subject.)

A week of long, leisurely runs at inappropriate times. 

Of eating cheese and Triscuits for dinner.

Or not eating dinner! 

Or eating THREE dinners I AM A FREE WOMAN, I ANSWER TO NO ONE! BOOYAH.

A week of living in a clean house.

A week of not schlepping keyboards and costumes and clothing and books and drums and shoes and cleats (Oh for the LOVE, the cleats!) back inside because it's about to rain and THIS IS WHY WE CAN'T HAVE NICE THINGS, BOYS. THIS IS WHY.

a week of thinking strictly in lower case letters.

And making lower case sounds.

and washing lower case loads of laundry.

Did I mention the part about the living in the clean house with the clean cleanliness inside?

I did?

M'kay. Wanted to be sure.

Yes.

One glorious, delicious, delightful, wonderful week.

So do not ask me why, when it was time to say goodbye, and the car was idling in the driveway with all three of my monkeys inside it, smiling (okay fine whatever they were LAUGHING) at me, I could not for the life of me stop crying.

Editor's Note: TOTALLY over the crying now. A WEEK! A WEEK!