Mr. Hobbitfeet is gone. Four whole days with just me and the kids. AHHHHHHH! That was a scream of horror, not relief. I had forgotten how difficult it is to achieve tasks as the only in-house grown-up. Simple things like needing milk, which is normally a five minute trip to Dollar General turns into a 45 minute debacle, and you have to keep your daughter up later than usual because there is only one at home to drive the boy to Taekwondo (which on Tuesdays is 7:30-8:15, and Girl's bedtime is 7:15).
Anyhow, so it's going to be just me in my big old bed, right. Nope Girl and Mr. Giles joined me last night. Each fighting each other (despite the queen-sized bed) for a spot that is almost (but not entirely) just on top of me. It is partially my fault, Mr, H. normally puts up baby gates to keep the dog in the common areas at night. He's been doing it since puppy days when things got chewed, but I had been wanting to skip it, and thought I'd try it when Mr. H. wasn't home.
Then Mr. H., who said he'd call before 9, still hadn't called by 9:30 and my eyes were drooping into sleep, so I called him. He is out wandering drunk through the streets of Chicago. Okay, not really, he was meandering buzzed from the restaurant where he ate with work cronies back to his hotel, but come on I was tired. Also he answered the phone, "Hiya Schweetie!" and I said "Are you drunk?" and he's like "What!? Naw!"
And so ends my first night alone.
3 days ago