Unlike the authors of a few blogs I’ve been following, or the dear husband, I of course did not attend CW. However, it has still been an educational experience for me, and now that it is drawing to a close, I will share this with the four people who actually read my blog.
- Six weeks is a long time. No, really. It’s a LONG time.
- Clarionites go to cool parties.
- Knitting can only pass the time for so long. I actually get more knitting done with the boy around, probably because I watch more TV with him than when I’m by myself.
- Carding wool works out that little muscle at the top of the shoulder.
- It’s all well and good to have a list of things to accomplish in the absence of your honey, but you won’t get most of them done. Examples of undone things: replace closet rod; dub movies (partially done); kitties to vet
- Using a Bosu is good for the ankles… but it does wear ya out.
- “A dream is a wish your heart makes…”
- The cats adapt pretty quickly to only having one person to afflict. Double the affliction, no waiting.
- My humor type is “The Wit”.
- It takes a few weeks to get in the rhythm of doing your own laundry after you haven’t done it for years and years.
- Nutritious meals are important for keeping depression at bay. Unfortunately, after about two weeks on my own, all I wanted to eat was chocolate and BBQ brisket.
- I can eat an astonishing amount of Riesens.
- Just because you can pick up fast food late at night, doesn’t mean you should.
- Being in love is different after 10 years, but separation is still a bitch.
- If the boy dies first, I am fucked.
That last one is no surprise to those who have known us for a long time, but for me, it was a bit of a rude awakening. I mean, I like to think that if something happens to the boy, I’ll go through an acceptable mourning period and then eventually be okay. However, based on how hard it’s been to keep me “up” knowing damn well that he’s coming home, I don’t think I’ll be okay if he’s never coming home. It’s kind of morbid, I know. Not trying to dwell on it, but it was a slight surprise to me.
Ah, ego is a difficult mistress.
I think we’re off to Karrie’s again tonight for more card-stravaganza. Poor little muscle!