I'm All On My Own...Someone Alert the Authorities

Since this past Friday (the 5th) The Wiff has been out in the Berkshires with her friends doing some crafty things and then spending a day at a spa. This leaves me to my own devices, rattling around our house and farting at will (wassup ladies? sorry, this prize is taken). I've never actually lived all by myself (like with no roommates or y'know, a wife) and so I was kinda looking forward to having the place to myself for a few days. Plus, I'm a reasonably mature adult so how hard could this be? I mean, at my age my father had 4 kids and a horribly difficult job driving a truck around Boston all day. Surely I can make my own lunches and throw food at the cats, all without burning the house down until Wednesday right?

Day 1: Technically not a full day since she left on Friday and she was still around when I left for work, but whatever. That night, after getting home from work, I treated myself to a pizza and a couple of beers (ok, 3 beers), plopped myself down in front of the ye olde boob tube to watch some TV. I had thought briefly about maybe going into town to see if there were any interesting bands playing but then I remembered who I was and dismissed that idea as ludicrous. I blasted around the channels, flipping so fast that I barely had time to process what show may or may not have been on that channel before zipping on to the next one. That got old faster than I had anticipated and so I settled on something that would have bored The Wiff to tears and made a night of it.

That night I spent rolling willy-nilly around on the bed since I did not have to stay on my assigned side (the right-hand side of the bed Nosy Nelly). "Whole-bed" privileges mean that I could in fact sleep however I saw fit. I lounged across the bed at a truly radical angle and set about trying to fall asleep. No go. I ended up back in my usual spot with Molly the cat adhered to the back of my knees. Go away Molly, your girth will push my whole back out of alignment silly animal. Molly usually smashes herself against The Wiff, you see.

Day 2: Saturday morning came and I was awakened by four hungry cats making their case known. Morticia, a.k.a. the "bowling ball with feet", sat on my chest while keeping an keen eye on Molly (whom she hates with the white hot fury of a thousand suns). Molly of course thinks this is funny and will taunt Morticia. So, Morticia hisses at Molly and I am subjected to evil, evil cat breath at 7am. I guess if you don't brush your teeth for 15 years you end up with really horrible breath. Morticia has it in spades.

The other cats (look, I know ok? Four cats is borderline crazy town. Lay off it ok?) don't do the sit on you and stare thing. No, they cry and cry and cry. Especially Mugsy. Oliver does this thing where he finds a really vulnerable part of your arm and licks it until you toss him across the room and/or get up. All of the above tactics are incredibly effective in at the very least waking the sleeping human. Usually it is The Wiff who will get up and feed the little beasties so that they'll leave us the fuck alone for maybe another hour or so (and I get the glorious whole bed for a little bit while she does so), but since she's not there, I had to go do it. And by the time I had finished dealing with all that nonsense, I was wide awake. Stupid cats ruined my sleep-in Saturday time.

So I make coffee and some breakfast for meself and now what? Hmm. Got the whole day here to do whatever I want. Yep. Mmm hmm ... [crickets] ...Video games on the new giant TV? Well now! Don't mind if I do!

And that was an entire Saturday. Some people would call that an entire Saturday "wasted" and I call those people "women". I had a grand old time. I think I bathed but I honestly don't recall. And does it really matter? Nope. Oh, and did you know that cats demand to be fed more than once a day? Well, they totally do. When is The Wiff coming back anyway?

Day 3: Ok, this "Feed us!" rigmarole is really getting on my nerves. Don't you fuckers have thumbs? Get yer own food. Marky sleepy time now. Sunday came up way faster than I had expected and I kinda felt a little guilty for not doing anything on Saturday. I know! I'll purge some junk out of my office upstairs! Oooh! Maybe I'll even go up into the attic and try to make that somewhat organized (a chore I have been steadfastly blowing off for going on 6 months now). Plus, I should totally install the window unit air conditioners now while it's nice out so that when the icks of summer finally get here and punch me in the balls I can retreat into one of the A/C rooms (we now offer 3 different air conditioned rooms for your convenience by the by).

Yea, I didn't do any of that stuff. Oh fuck you Mugsy, I'll feed you in a second. Jeez.

Day 4: Monday, and so back to work I go. Hmm, maybe I won't make a pot of coffee instead opting to wait until I get to the office to partake of the lovely free gruel we have there. Wow, I kinda like the fact that The Wiff likes to cook. She will whip up a tasty little egg sammich in the morning that sustains me all the way until lunch. Oh yea, and she usually makes me a lovely lil' sammich for my lunch too (PB&J or maybe ham and cheese and a snack! Saving cash! Lookit us!). Wow. I'm a child. I am a giant, cranky child with a driver's license and a taste for scotch. How the hell did I convince her to talk to me let alone marry me? God, she must have been really fucking desperate. And thank jeebus for that! Whoo-hoo! Here's to lowered expectations!

For dinner I had planned to make myself a couple of buffalo burgers but of course I forgot to take the stuff out of the freezer. Awesome. What did I have instead? PB&J of course. Isn't that the obvious choice for a substitute? That night Molly finally figured out that if she doesn't lay across my legs she won't get flung off the bed in the middle of the night when I roll over. Sorry Molly, it's a little thing called inertia. Look that shit up.

Day 5: That would be today, Tuesday. This morning was another exercise in intricacies cat nutrition (hey, they sure do drink a lot of fucking water...didn't know that) as well as the always difficult decision of whether or not a particular shirt was ok or should be ironed. You've probably figured out by now that the shirt was determined to be not that wrinkled. Another victory for time management.

So what's for dinner? Yea! The buffalo burgers that I was going to have last night! That'll be great! Oh, except that I didn't think of it until I was in the goddamn Sumner Tunnel. Stupid tiny brain failed me again. Luckily for me, The Wiff knows full well that I'm just this side of retarded and had stocked the freezer with all kinds of simpleton-proof dinner choices. Mmmm, frozen turkey sausage Stromboli monstrosities. Yummy (they're quite good, for realsies)! Oh fer the love of Pete, I will FEED YOU IN A GODDAMN SECOND you frickin' cats you. Must prepare this stuff now before something shiny distracts me and I forget to heat these things up. Just relax and fight amongst yourselves. And will somebody please fill that water bowl already?! Oh, right, that's me too. Dammit dammit dammit.

Day 6: This will be tomorrow morning only and then The Wiff will make her triumphant return later in the evening. I just have to remember to wash all my dishes before she gets home so that she doesn't sigh all disappointed-like at me. Ooooh! I hope she brings me a toy!