Afterall, Tomorrow is Another Day...
Earlier this year as we were saying goodbye yet again at the airport, I remember saying to Dan, "This will get easier won't it? We'll probably get quite blaise about all this goodbye-ing and flying up and down the country I guess"
Or something to that affect. Anyway, the point of me telling you that is, I was wrong (yeah yeah, print it out if you feel the need). I'm still waiting for the 'easy' part to happen. In fact, it appears to be getting harder and harder each time. I loathe this part of our relationship. I start winding myself up for it a couple of days before departure, which does nothing to improve my mood and thus probably makes him sigh with relief as he's waving me off at the airport.
I came home on Thursday night. Friday morning dawns and I think to myself "I can do this, I don't need him here...I've all sorts of things I can and WILL do." I lay in bed running through a list of things that need to be sorted...I still have a week off work, and I deliberately took this extra time to organise things around the house.
Then I sink slowly into a wavering depression and don't do anything. Oh, actually, that's not true. I sat on the sofa and watched TV, I hung out with the boys and listened to them tell me about their week...and I ate.
I ate a bowl of porridge for brekky...with cream...yes, I know. It's get better. I ate 3...that's three bagels, smeared with cream cheese (full fat of course), and smoked salmon. I chowed my way through half a large bag of chippies, and polished that off with 2 chocolate Tim Tam biscuits...which incidentally were filled with pink strawberry flavoured goop, to acknowledge Breast Cancer Awareness month. I think that means there's zero calories or something.
Around 5pm I decided I should probably lie down for a rest and read my book. It's not like I was going to get all energetic and leap about in a frenzy after stuffing that lot into my gob is it? So I lay down hoping the boys weren't hungry for dinner yet and thought, it's only an hour, they'll cope. I fell asleep...and dragged myself awake at 9.15pm. 9.15!!
This is all part of my cunning plan for them to learn how to fend for themselves. I have to say they are rather good at never going hungry...they do a passable job of feeding their faces...I just wish they'd bloody clean up the kitchen when they're done.
Or something to that affect. Anyway, the point of me telling you that is, I was wrong (yeah yeah, print it out if you feel the need). I'm still waiting for the 'easy' part to happen. In fact, it appears to be getting harder and harder each time. I loathe this part of our relationship. I start winding myself up for it a couple of days before departure, which does nothing to improve my mood and thus probably makes him sigh with relief as he's waving me off at the airport.
I came home on Thursday night. Friday morning dawns and I think to myself "I can do this, I don't need him here...I've all sorts of things I can and WILL do." I lay in bed running through a list of things that need to be sorted...I still have a week off work, and I deliberately took this extra time to organise things around the house.
Then I sink slowly into a wavering depression and don't do anything. Oh, actually, that's not true. I sat on the sofa and watched TV, I hung out with the boys and listened to them tell me about their week...and I ate.
I ate a bowl of porridge for brekky...with cream...yes, I know. It's get better. I ate 3...that's three bagels, smeared with cream cheese (full fat of course), and smoked salmon. I chowed my way through half a large bag of chippies, and polished that off with 2 chocolate Tim Tam biscuits...which incidentally were filled with pink strawberry flavoured goop, to acknowledge Breast Cancer Awareness month. I think that means there's zero calories or something.
Around 5pm I decided I should probably lie down for a rest and read my book. It's not like I was going to get all energetic and leap about in a frenzy after stuffing that lot into my gob is it? So I lay down hoping the boys weren't hungry for dinner yet and thought, it's only an hour, they'll cope. I fell asleep...and dragged myself awake at 9.15pm. 9.15!!
This is all part of my cunning plan for them to learn how to fend for themselves. I have to say they are rather good at never going hungry...they do a passable job of feeding their faces...I just wish they'd bloody clean up the kitchen when they're done.
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