Right around Christmas, I had this brilliant idea to try on-line dating. Not that I’m even sure I want a man underfoot, but you know someday these boys of mine will want to leave the nest and when that happens maybe I’ll regret my singledom.
I’m not sure how hot a woman has to be to get a viable date offer on an on-line dating site, but apparently I’m a long way from that hot. My most notable offer was from a fellow who had no teeth, no job, no vehicle and thought I should be honored to drive to where he was and leap on his magic swizzle stick.
Ladies I saw the hair on that man’s head, and even with all of his other fine qualities, there is no way in hell I ever want to see the bush that would have come flying out of that man’s pants – or anything else that was in his pants. We’re talking Beetlejuice look-alike, with fewer conversation skills.
So I’ve spent the past three months or so wallowing in books while reveling in singledom and never hearing a man wonder why my dishes aren’t done or there are two or four loads of laundry piled on a chair waiting for me to fold them, or better yet, someone to just wear them so I can skip the folding all together.
But now it’s time to quit wallowing because this weekend I’m off to California for a week. Which means I’ve gone from zero to full on panic mode. Actually it started Saturday with a shopping trip for suitable clothing. Monday was shopping for food that could be ready and stored in single serving containers for my boys to eat while I’m away.
I spent at least ten minutes trying to remember which soy sauce I had at home. The one I don’t like and was waiting to use up, but then decided soy sauce isn’t that freaking expensive so why use up soy sauce I don’t like when the store has soy sauce I do like. Happily the soy sauce I bought wasn’t the same soy sauce I had at home and don’t like so we’re good.
Tuesday was the night to make two pans of lasagna, fried rice and honey garlic chicken. I won’t be able to serve fried rice before September once they’ve spent a week eating it, but that’s life. Lasagna of course is no issue, up until recently both of my boys thought that was only served for Christmas Eve.
That just leaves giving myself a pedicure, shaving my legs, packing, reserving parking, and making sure there are enough provisions left behind for the boys while I’m away while obsessing about night wear and hot flashes and wondering if the hotels have laundry facilities.