By Chris Six
This week, I’m a temporary bachelor.
Not like those exciting guys on “reality” television. In truth, reality is far more… mundane.
My significant is spending the week in Florida with her mother and sister, enjoying the warmer clime — even if it was cold enough last week for the iguanas to drop out of the trees. True story.
But while she finally gets to eat the fish tacos she dreams about all year and bask in the sun, I’m holding down the fort and tending the dogs.
Of course, before boarding her plane, she reminded me to be good while she was gone, a warning not to get involved in the kind of shenanigans men of a certain age can get into if left to their own devices.
Let alone those days passed me by some time ago, I appreciate the sentiment.
Her daughter has a far better sense of what happens when no one is in the house to keep me on my toes, and reminds me not to sit in front of the TV eating convenience store hotdogs all week.
You see, I was never much of a carouser in my youth, but compared to now I was a party animal. These days, the greatest danger in leaving me alone is if I find enough sports to watch or a series to binge, I’ll never leave my chair.
I suppose that kind of aimlessness was one of the origins of the honey-do list, and while we don’t dabble in those around here, there is enough I am expected to do.
For instance, if all goes according to plan, the sale of our house will be finalized at the end of February. Murphy’s Law being what it is, we will have the shortest month of the year to pack up and find a place to land. Meanwhile, we’ll also be taking on two house guests (and a third dog) in the process.
With any luck, maybe we can add a snowstorm in there, too.
As with any sale, there are a about a hundred hoops to jump through before we get to the goal line. So there’s plenty to keep me out of trouble while she’s gone. Then, too, there’s getting the house ready for guests, and you can bet I’d better get that done before she gets back.
Oh, and, I still have my day job.
Truth is, while I enjoy having maybe a half a day to myself, it doesn’t take long to notice just how empty and quiet the house is. In my 20s, I could be perfectly content sitting in my apartment for days with nothing but my own imagination to keep me company.
Now I’m good for a few hours rattling about the place before I miss getting into “another fine mess” with my housemates — my little family.
I’m sure in the coming weeks, as we descend into a madhouse of packing, extra people, dogs running about and general mayhem, I’ll look back on this week longingly.
But one thing I know, I won’t be bored.