Thursday, September 3

One Is The Loneliest Number

I came home from work. Got the mail. Opened the door. I really wanted to say, "Hey, I'm home." But there's no one to hear me. Just the turtles. And it'll be like this until Monday evening.

Wook's gone.

And MommyMcD, I know what you're thinking. "That tramp, she promises to come up for the weekend, but then bails on me with plans of football and such, and now she's holding out on coming up since wook won't even be around!" I thought wook would have been around this weekend. But as of last week, those plans changed. Drastically. Connecticut, drastically. And by then I was already in the mindset of not fighting the tunnel traffic to see you. I'm sorry. I'll be up again, I promise-promise. Just hold steady that I won't pick up another cold from your little wascly wabbits.

Anyways, where was I before I was so ruuuudely interrupted...

So I'm home now. Talking to my imaginary fans online. Because face it, I come home from work and my string gets pulled (you know, like a talking doll). I like to talk about my day. How many "That's what she said"s were dropped. The usual.

But tonight, no one. Alone. On a Thursday night. Game night. Who's game night? Boise State vs. Oregon. On at 8:30pm MST. 10:30 EST. So where will I be at 10:00pm? At a bar. Alone. Watching the game on ESPN. Have I mentioned I'll be alone? How sad. I'll be alone, in a bar, drinking a beer, watching football. You'd swear I just had a fight with my wife and was kicked out of the house. But alas, I wasn't. I just don't have anyone to watch it with or the means (we don't have cable because it costs a ridiculous amount and any shows we do watch are also featured online - caught up now?).

Wook's not completely on board with me going to a bar by myself. I think he's worried of the riff-raff that may placate the area. But on the bright side, what if a guy buys me a drink? That's one less I have to pay for. But then there's the issue that he may think I'm single. Which, well, is definitely not the cause. I guess tonight I'll focus on my own tab since I don't have Dr. Stacey Kervokian here to rescue me after I pull the all-signs-point-to-a-needed-rescue ear tug.

But let's get to the deeper issues.

What am I really worried about? Honestly.........feeding myself.

I know, it's sad. At the mid-20s circuit, I'm concerned how I'll survive until Monday when I'm perfectly capable of cooking. Capability is one thing. Skill is another. And wook's a champion in the kitchen, whipping up delectables. My skills severely lack. I blame the gene pool as Hayley came out with all cooking abilities from the genetic mess, and all I got were big eyes. I mean, thanks Dad, all the better to order off a menu when I'm left defenseless and starving on a holiday weekend.

Last night was entertaining as wook and I hit the market for some needed groceries. We were out of milk, and the one day I had to suffice toast for breakfast was the threshold for, how long can Ashley go without Cheerios? But while we were there we decided to pick up some could-be essentials for the long weekend ahead of me. Some bread. Some gatorade. The afore-mentioned milk. Some cheese. Eggs. Micro-brewery beer (yes, an essential). And some other things that I just can't think of right now. And you may be thinking, what about the all-so-awesome frozen dinner? Not yet.

The weekend doesn't worry me as much since I'll have all day to figure out a menu. It's tonight and tomorrow. The times when I come home from work, tired, and starving. Wook, being the champ he is, will usually have dinner started or at least thought out in his head.

And since I have this long break in action between being off work and kick off, I'm left to scrounge in the mean time. And by scrounge I mean, I've already pounded a bowl of Raisin Bran Crunchy Granola (tasty!) and am trying to think of what to make for dinner. But then there's the thought of, do I take a nap? Which I'm thinking yes. It'll make time go by faster, and it'll give me more energy between now and tomorrow morning.

Okay, so here's to surviving a weekend without my live-in chef.

May the force be with me.

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