The Wife, The Boy, and The Girl are flying out to West Nowhere today, to visit The Wife’s Sister (hereafter, The Aunt). The Aunt hasn’t met The Girl, and hasn’t seen The Boy in two years, so it’s a big deal. They’re flying out today, and coming back on Monday.
This makes me a temporary bachelor.
While I won’t indulge in certain of the traditional bachelor activities I remember, like hitting on women or staring at the wall at 3 a.m. in quiet but intense despair, there are a few indulgences I’m looking forward to:
- “The game is on. Any objections? Hearing none,...”
- Finishing the Sunday morning papers on Sunday morning, like God intended.
- With a grotesquely-oversized mug of coffee, like God intended.
- Spaghetti. The Wife objects to my spaghetti technique. Like many women of my acquaintance, she fails to appreciate the sheer visceral joy of the long noodle-suck. Note to self: wear dark t-shirt.
- Shams? I don’t need no steenking shams...
- Sleeping past 6:30 a.m. on both Saturday AND Sunday. Almost unimaginable glee!
- Uninterrupted, serious reading. God, I miss that.
I’ll miss them, of course, and I’ll be incredibly glad when they get home. But a few days of bachelorhood won’t be so bad. The best part is that I know that, and when, it will end.
