How much does a cookie jar cost?

History was made this week.


For the first time since our wedding, B. and I spent a night under separate roofs.

Now, first off, RELAX EVERYONE.  We're fine.  She's still stuck with me forever, poor soul. 


The reason for our separation should be clear from previous posts.  She was able to get work off for the week, and her stepmom was in town for a baby shower, so she hitched a ride home with them to see her dad and be with family.

I, who had less flexibility with classes and work, stayed behind.  She drove up with her parents to Battle Mountain yesterday, I'm leaving this afternoon to meet her there.

It was very strange loading her things into her stepmom's car.  It didn't remind me of divorce, actually quite the opposite; it reminded me of engagement.  We spent our entire dating lives and our whole engagement apart.  Once we got married, we were very eager to avoid separation; we'd had our fill.

But these were unusual circumstances, so we weren't too bummed about it.  So I spent the night in our apartment.


Home alone.


Rather than get all depressed, I tried to put a positive spin on my newfound abandonment/independence. I didn't know what to do.

Should I slide around, dancing pantless to Bob Seger as did Tom Cruise?  Should I apply a shocking smack of aftershave or sled down the stairwell as did a little blonde boy who found himself in similar domestic isolation?  Should I start talking to a volleyball?

When my parents would leave me home alone, I'd eat cookie dough left in the fridge or surreptitiously steal sweets from a secret stash they thought I didn't know about.  Or I'd even occasionally risk the freedoms allowed by isolated living and not bother to close doors when showering or changing from various stages of undress.  

But now...

I bought those sweets.

I walk around almost or completely naked all the time at home. (Don't judge me, we have no A/C and our apartment has stayed at 80 degrees until 1am a few nights.  You would, too.)

I don't have a volleyball.

Or a sled.

Or a Bob Seger record.


Being home alone as a kid was amazing.  But adulthood, as with many things, has sucked the last marrow of fun from the brittle bones of childish play.  I didn't dance.  I didn't sled.  I cleaned a little, made pasta, did homework and watch two episodes of Mad Men before turning in for the night.

I also called B. to tell her goodnight, something I hadn't done in over a year.

The next morning  I woke up on my side of the bed (it was uncomfortable trying to sleep in the middle or taking up more than my usual share), looked over at the substitute pillow she had placed there (a poor substitute - the pillow didn't smell like her, it smelled like laundry), rubbed my eyes and got ready for work.

After a full day at work I went home and did a repeat process: Homework, Mad Men, last minute laundry and tidying, pack, call, bed.  This morning was equally empty.



I'll say it.  I miss my wife.


It was an interesting experience to test drive life without her around, but also way too depressing to make me want to do it again anytime soon.  I'm eager to see her again and hold her close.

That's not to say there were absolutely no benefits.  I went to sleep with Chet Baker songs and Marsalis duets wafting into the bedroom from my computer, all accompanied by the soft, relaxing pitter-patter of Rainymood.  I watched a youtube video or two in the early morning to wake me up, not worrying about waking sweet B.  I drove to work.

But ya know, I thought about her all the time.


Independence is great and all, but I think I've been whipped too long.  I miss my best friend.  I'm ready to see her again.  Soon.


Gone are the days when I enjoy sneaking sweets from the cookie jar.

Now, I'm the guy who baked the cookies.  I bought the jar.



What do you do at home when others are away?



S