My husband is currently packing up his things to leave me in a flight of fancy that will foretell our future as husband and wife.
He's actually just leaving me for five months to partake in a great opportunity to strike fear into the hearts of Bank CEO's across the nation! He's going to be an auditor for F.D.I.C.!
I'm quite happy for him.
I'm quite miserable for me.
Why? Let me shed some light: I have to sleep in a cold bed alone, there will be no one there to guard me from the purring/nibbling/drooling antics of a hyperactive overweight Himalayn, I will have to clean up cat puke (why is it always ORANGE???), I will have to empty the litter box, I will have to kill and dispose of the still-wriggling bodies of creepy bugs with too many useless legs, and I will be the one who has to lug the bins to the curb on trash day! Me!? And in my delicate condition! Okay - so I'm not pregnant - but I'm lazy - and that's pretty delicate if you ask me!
So, as the days of "manlessness" surround me, I will have to dig deep for the "Inner Xena: Warrior Princess" and start doing things by myself, for myself and with myself.
Wait - that went weird.