Thursday, January 29, 2015
In my last post I celebrated the fact that Jon and I are together. "It's amazing," I said. You know what else is amazing?
Having the apartment to myself.
Alone time, so loathed when Jon was across the ocean, is again a glorious thing.
You were right, dear readers; my single girl behaviors are still out on display even though my husband is around, and he no longer bats an eye when I come out of the bathroom with my face slathered in green mud or when I decide I'm going to blast the soundtrack to Wicked while sweeping. In fact, he's even started participating in my conversations with Charlie! But sometimes - just sometimes - I really want to be by myself in the apartment.
Jon has a few evenings a month on his own at home due to the frequency of my work events and, now that he's doing shiftwork, I've enjoyed a few, too. (In the interest of full disclosure, though, I will tell you that, after Jon had been in DC for about six weeks, I ordered him out of the apartment for an evening so I could breathe. I kissed him when I got home from the office and handed him $40 in cash and told him not to come back until 10pm. I just needed one night!) Tonight, actually, Jon's pulling a late one, so I'll get to eat unspicy stir fry and watch Law and Order: SVU and flip through catalogues filled with things we'll never buy - all with impunity. It's going to be fabulous.