Flip Side of Bachelorette-ism

Steph wrote a few days ago about how she finally had the straw that broke the single mom’s back while her husband is off traveling.  And, admittedly, she has WAAAAY more on her plate than I do.  So whining feels a bit silly for me.

(Not gonna stop me, but I thought I’d admit that it FEELS silly.)

Last night, I did as I always do.  I made it home around 5, stayed home long enough to wash some dishes and feed the dogs, and then headed back out to Costco.  I spent about an hour there, stopped at their gas pumps to fill up, and headed home.  After carting in TWO cases of bottled drinks, and unloading all of the groceries, I made it in.

It was almost seven by this point.  I had SO hoped to be done before this.

While I occassionally have the young child (The Boy) in my house, for the most part, I’m childless.  I do, however, have a bazillion animals who all depend on me to care for them.  And while none of my animals are exactly high-maintenance, I do liken my dogs to teenage boys.  They are high-energy, attention-starved, and messy.  They were driving me NUTS when I got home (in their defense, it had been a boring day for them), so I decided to take them for a walk.

Charlie, our big mutt, was out of control on the walk.  Luckily, he’s chained to Mabel, our deaf-and-slightly-portly mutt, so he couldn’t escape.  After walking them for 20 minutes, we made our way back home.

I finally decided to eat.  I heated some leftover enchilladas and scarfed them down. (Sidenote: I HAVE COOKED EVERY NIGHT THIS WEEK.  FROM SCRATCH.  AREN’T I AWESOME?)

I made some quick lemonade because I wanted some (and because buying the juice in bulk at Costco is cheaper than buying the mix).  And it was close to eight by this point.

I threw on some running shoes to go out running, and decided that the enchillada leftover in the trash was stinky.  Upon further inspection, I’m not sure WHEN the trash was taken out last.  So I decided to empty it.

That’s when Glad laughed.  Not God, mind you.. Glad.

The bag broke. 

All over the kitchen.

And I just sat there.  The dogs hurriedly licked up Lord-knows-what from around me, and I just sat there, tired.  Times like this make me wonder why I’m married; there are times I often feel like I’m still single.  And all in the world I could’ve used right then was someone to say, “You need some help in there?”

(No, I didn’t.  I got it cleaned up.  Because, you know, that’s what has to happen in life.  Gotta just do it and move on.)

I finally went for a run and came back to sit on the couch.  I didn’t move for a full half-hour.  It was glorious.  Then Bryan called, and I didn’t want to bitch about how tired I was, or how my evening had gone, so we just talked about happy things.

This morning, I realized we are (almost or entirely) out of two very crucial things in my house: dog food and orange juice.  I don’t want to go to the grocery store.  I want to be single again and eat only brie and grapes.

Which is what I’m TOTALLY gonna do tonight.