Andy’s been in Boston (Massachusetts, not Lincolnshire, as one friend asked!) for the last 6 days. He’ll be home later today.
This is the longest time we’ve been apart since quite early in our relationship. I’ve been dreading it ever since I knew it was on the cards about 3 months ago. Initially it was supposed to be 2 weeks away but thankfully, for me at least, it got reduced to one.
I know many many people have to put up with weeks on end of their spouse working away on a regular basis so I really shouldn’t moan about or feel particularly accomplished that I’ve managed a whole 6 nights home alone. But I am secretly quite proud of myself.
There are many reasons I don’t like being home alone. The biggest being strange noises outside (or even inside) once it gets dark which freak me out. Secondly, because I also work from home I often get a sense of cabin fever and when there isn’t even anyone coming home in the evening to relieve you of the slight sense of loneliness it makes it even more apparent. I’m also scared of things going wrong and having to ‘man up’ and deal with them without the actual man of the house stepping in. Thankfully the biggest issue I’ve had this week is an influx of eight legged monsters. I’ve barely seen a big spider since we moved in but this week, with no husband to rescue me, I’ve seen two (hardly an infestation I know). One got dealt with in the form of a perfectly executed flip flop toss. The other one evaded my summer footwear arsenal and ran under the door of the cupboard under the stairs. And forever more I will refuse to open that door!
Anyway, I didn’t mean to waffle on quite this much. My point was, I survived. I put on my big girl pants and got on with it. I kept myself busy with work, in the gym and catching up with some friends and almost even enjoyed a few days completely to myself. And I could have fish for dinner without anyone turning their nose up in disgust. Even so, I’m looking forward to getting my hubby back later.