I'm on my own this week. Joel is off for spring training with his team, at a facility in South Carolina called Camp Bob. He insists that, despite the name, it's some sort of YMCA place that all the rowing teams in the Mid-Atlantic go to for spring break, and NOT a presidential resort or a center for psychiatric rehabilitation. He will be coaching three practices a day, eating in a cafeteria/mess hall, and playing a lot of Xbox without having to hear me whine my litany of abuses against video games and all those who play them. The only thing I hate more than video games is professional football. Sorry, Daddy. So, as of 6am on Saturday morning, I'm livin' single. It's not like I see Joel for more than a few hours a day, but it's weird knowing that he's not coming home later, that he's not just still at work or at practice.
I had class all day on Saturday and then went out for a belated St. Patrick's Day celebration, so I hardly even noticed how empty the house was until Sunday morning, when I woke up feeling like death on the couch. Why I felt so awful is really a mystery. I didn't drink that much on Saturday night, because green beer is only fun when you can actually drink beer, and despite my bloodline, I can't choke down a beer without gagging. (Vodka, now that's a different story. Sometimes I wonder if I wasn't adopted from a family in Siberia. That would explain so much... my bitter hatred of cold weather, my undying love for vodka, and my need to stockpile enough food to survive a nuclear winter). I guess the angry monster in my stomach and the jackhammer in my head could have been a result of the two very large Red Bull and Vodkas I consumed the night before. Or the questionable grilled cheese and turkey sandwich I made myself upon arriving home semi-drunk (the turkey smelled weird, but I ate it anyway, figuring that the heat from grilling would kill any rottenness). Or the fact that I stayed up until somewhere around 4am watching some fine late night programming on USA, including Law and Order SVU, more SVU, and most of Frequency, and then fell asleep without washing my face or brushing my teeth. But whatever the cause, I felt crappy enough to decline an invitation to go out to breakfast and remain on the couch until approximately 3pm, where I flipped back and forth between Fear, Space Cowboys, and The Lizzy McGuire Movie. After watching Hilary Duff wrap up all her crazy schemes and pull off a happy ending, I felt much better physically, but sort of lonely as well. Lizzy McGuire, Darcy's Wild Life, Scout's Safari, and Strange Days at Blake Holsey High are among the shows that I've given up in order to live peaceably with another human being who doesn't share my penchant for television programming targeted at 11 year olds. It was great to get back in touch with my pre-adolescent self... but at the same time, I missed having someone around to plead with me to change the channel. To combat my loneliness, I went on a hike (and managed not to get lost) and made a desperately needed stop for groceries on the way back. $275 later, I emerged from Sam's club. I swear, I didn't even buy that much. Damn Siberian genes.
Now that it's the work week again, I'm sure the time alone will fly by. I'm also on "spring break" this week, but it's part-time graduate school spring break, which means that instead of going off to some exotic and exciting locale to drink alcohol (or to Camp Bob), I'll be coming to work from 8:30-5 and working on the two research papers that are coming due much too quickly. Fill up my cup, sounds like a party!
I don't really understand why jobs don't have spring breaks. And summers off.
I can totally vouch for Joel's version of Camp Bob. It's pretty much the pits. Except for X-box - when did THAT make an appearance?! That is LUXURY man.
Posted by: for Joke! | Thursday, March 23, 2006 at 12:03 PM