Long time, no talk.
Life went and got all busy and stuff, when I really just want to sit down and watch Dr. Phil and eat ice cream.
In my plaid jammies.
With my hair up.
And zit cream on.
So the other day when I was at the gym on the treadmill, I was deep thinking in between my near-death deep breaths.
Like, me, myself and I alone.
No one I need to tell when I'm going out or going to be late. No one I need to share a closet or bathroom with. No one I have to buy red meat for....
...or peppers and onions...
...or rice pudding.
If I die tomorrow, there will not be a husband/partner's name in my obituary. There won't be a grieving man standing over my photos.
As that thought crossed my mind, I looked around at the other men at the gym.
And I was totally OK with being alone.
But I do need a handyman. That's all.
I'll invite him over to replace the pot lights in my basement, fix the bricks at the front of the house, hang some pictures and maybe rip up my carpet and replace with hardwood.
He can stay for a drink.
Then I'll ask him to put together my deck chairs....
...and go with me to purchase a BBQ.
When he carries it to my backyard, I'll give him some cashews or some manly snack.
And I will nicely ask him to put it together for me.
And see if he can stain my deck.
Then I will send him off on his way.
And I will be alone.
With my fixed up house.