Phil’s headed into Philadelphia, leaving me at home alone. Now, this as most of you know, would be old, old news for a chronic left-at-home wife like me.
Not so, mon frère, anymore!
I have separation anxiety, and it may be from all those cuddle-less nights, but seriously, it’s serious. I have to find ways to entertain myself so I forget that I’m alone, even for a minute. Tonight’s line-up: Target—for some special treats, Project Runway and America’s Next Top Model—about 11 episodes. (I’m not allowed to watch it with him, so I have lots of catching up to do). I’ll eat cereal for dinner, and go to bed at 10-ish because I can sleep through anything and it’s definitely my comfort. I’ll be blissfully unaware that my neighboring pillow is empty. Then, I’ll wake up in the morning, get ready and drive the 45 minutes to work, but knowing that he’ll be back at the end of that work day will make it all worth it.
So now, I’ve made it through. I did fine last night although there were a few moments in the night that were atypical for my REM cycle. I woke up at 4:44 because the door to our bedroom mysteriously opened when the heat came on and would. Not. Close. For anything. But that’s okay, I just left it open. See, I’m brave! [with all the lights on].
Anyway, you’re probably thinking “why in the world would this girl that had her husband deployed three times, TDY countless times, and just “gone” for one reason or another for limitless days have a problem being alone? She lived in a foreign country for 6 months by herself!” And I choose to explain that for some reason, it’s the apartment. I am convinced that no one would ever bother me way out here, in the woods, near the water, in a strange community, unless they had intent to harm. That’s all.
Glad I made it through! And now, if you’ll forgive me, I need a hot carb.