mrs-roboto's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Party of One Well, I was under the impression that this was going to be a great week for diary entries. You see, Pete has been in Alameda leaving me a business trip widow and so I had all these grand plans. I'd write every day, I'd watch all kinds of chick flicks, I'd give myself a facial and paint my toenails, I'd have long phone calls with friends, etc. Truth is, I basically just moped about complaining that the house felt too big and I couldn't sleep. This is the longest Pete and I have ever been apart. And as it turns out I'm not very good at living alone anymore which is weird because I use to *LOVE* being a solo artist. I adored coming home to an empty house and not having to talk to anyone. I liked having only the radio as background noise. I enjoyed eating potato chips and calling it dinner. Now, I experience the strange sensation of loneliness when left to my own devices. Even a fine meal of wine and cherries and mashed potatoes didn't cheer me up. Often I would stumble out to the yard and harass Judy and Jiri with my sadness. "Oh I am so alone," I'd sigh. "Do you want to have dinner with us," they'd politely ask. "No, I have some canned cat food I'm going to heat up just like all the other old widows on SSI." Why they put up with me, I do not know. I also dragged SBD out to dinner and forced her to entertain me with stories of her love life. This took my mind off the situation at hand for a number of hours and the margaritas helped me sleep. The funny thing is that most of my single girl plans fell through. You know all those woman-centric films I was going to watch? Well, I swear there wasn't a damn thing I was actually interested in when I arrived at the video store. And the video store posed another problem for me anyway. You see the people who work there are sort of film snobs (and uber hipsters too). You feel as if they watch your picks and then mock you after you leave. So for example, if I was to rent How To Lose A Guy In Ten Days or something equally fluffy, they'd totally rip me to shreds after I left the shop. This is why I only rent documentaries and foreign films. I want the video store clerks to respect me. Some day I'll reveal to you all my record store clerk paranoia too. Pete returns home this afternoon so that's good. He's been having as lousy a time in Alameda as I have been having here and we have reached an agreement that all future business trips will require the accompaniment of a spouse for entertainment purposes. In other news, the first of many reports on the in-laws visit has trickled back to us. The good sister-in-law (also thrown into this dysfunctional family unit through marriage) spoke to the bad sister-in-law a few days ago. Among other complaints, Marge stated that Pete and I kept leaving our glasses everywhere and Damian could get to them and smash them. Now, I could state the obvious (that this is my house, that I pay the mortgage, that I can leave my things anywhere I damn well please, etc.) but I am actually going to dispute the statement as a whole. It is completely false. Neither Pete nor I could have possibly left our glasses lying around because our glasses were always filled with some sort of alcohol and held very tightly in hand or tilted to our mouths for imbibing. Stew and Marge would not be alive now to tell the tale had Pete and I not continuously self-medicated with booze during their invasion. The good sister-in-law also informed me that Marge took Damian to the park the other day. They were there for a while and then when Marge told Damian it was time to go he began to throw a fit. He bit her hand hard enough that he drew blood. When good sister-in-law (mother of four children, mind you) asked what Marge did, Marge told her she did nothing. Marge later mentioned that motherhood was a thankless job. I suppose it would be if you never bothered to parent your child. No chance to see your child put the life lessons you taught him or her into action because you never bothered to teach them anything. Which brings me to my final point of the day. Children are a product of their environment. I never said otherwise. 3:24 p.m. - 2003-07-18 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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