Like there should be a term for when you're rooting around in your pocketbook for your lighter and you keep coming up with your lip balm, and when you want to find your lip balm you always find your lighter. Which I have like 12 of, and tonight I still ended up trying to light my cigarette in a Force 5 gale with wooden matches. Took like 20 of them and I inhaled a ton of sulfur before I got any nicotine. Friggin pocketbook.
So, tonight Bob's out watching the Browns get annihilated by the
I used to have a lot of alone-time, it was a treasure and I appreciated it. Before I was married (the first time). I lived alone for many years, or actually I lived with a series of boyfriends, but they were all like med students and bartenders and musicians so due to scheduling conflicts I still had a lot of alone-time. In fact, even after I was married (the first time), I still had a lot of time to myself, as I worked at home and went to grad school and he worked full-time and spent his leisure hours, I dunno, buying ladies' underwear and drinking and screwing around. I do hope that idiot cleaned up his act.
But now, with this good life and great kids and wonderful husband - now, not so much on the time spent alone.
That is why, when I tucked myself into bed with the remote tonight - I love TV, have I mentioned that? I love it and I miss it, even though all the shows I used to watch are off the air now. Anyway I cried foul on the whatever-you-callit phenomenon which meant I had to watch the same episode of Sex In the City that I'd seen before. And I had no snacks, because I'm a good crunchy mom who doesn't buy cookies or Cheetos or any of that fabulous binge-eating good stuff.
Bah. I say bah.