Will Left Town

Will was out of town this past weekend, Thursday night through Monday.  He arrived home Monday night well after I had gone to bed, and I even stayed up until 10:00 that night (late for me).  I was pretty irritated with him prior to him leaving because we are doing a bunch of cleaning out and rearranging, so everything is a huge mess as we are getting things sorted out.  So, huge mess, plus he posts on Facebook that he is going to be out of town.

Gee, thanks, sweetie.

I know I am paranoid, but I would have really preferred that all of his Facebook “friends” were left out of the loop on his travel plans or his Leaving My Wife Alone All Weekend plans.  When I complained to him he said, “What?  You’d just shoot anyone who tried to break in here, anyway.”  Which is true, albeit untested.  I still haven’t decided if I am annoyed with him for telling everyone I was home alone or if I feel flattered that he trusts me to shoot people.  I am going with both, annoyed and flattered, which really is Life With Will.

Our ongoing joke is that for me, absence does not make the heart grow fonder.  A week or two is about my limit of not seeing Will before I start to disengage emotionally.  “Oh, yes, you are that guy that left all his stuff here.  Why on earth are you hugging me?”

I am more out of sight, out of mind.

While he was gone, the only dirty dishes were mine.  The only messes were mine.  When I cleaned something up, it stayed clean.  When I cleared off a space on the counter, instead of Will coming in with stuff to immediately be placed on the empty space (he does this all the time, I have no idea how he knows I’ve cleaned off counters, but he does) it stayed empty.

It was glorious.

For two days.

Then I got bored.

Without Will around, there was no one to annoy or be annoyed by.  No one to verbally spar with.  No one to do fun things with.

One of Will’s many fine traits is that he takes verbal abuse well and finds it funny.  And lest you think I am abusive, he dishes it out, too.  When we truly fight, we are pretty polite to each other and we use big, vocabulary words not curse-words.  One day we were out shopping for tile and carpet (this is like my hell, I hate shopping, I hate shopping for flooring even more than that, the only thing worse is shopping for plumbing supplies) and I was being really grumpy.  He was trying unsuccessfully to cheer me up but I was having none of it.  Finally, exasperated, he says, “Just tell me something positive.”

Being ever mature, I said, with what I am sure was a whine, “There is nothing positive right now.”

“Then lie to me,” he said.

“I love you,” I said.

“You bitch,” he said, with admiration.

Then we both were laughing hysterically because we are deranged in some way.  While this is more extreme in nature – he never calls me a bitch, and I rarely deny loving him – he and I can be pretty harsh to each other and find it hilarious.  I would have broken the spirit of a lesser man by now.  He would have institutionalized a lesser woman.

And while he was gone there was no one to mess with.  No one to sharpen knives on.  No fun.

Yesterday was the first day he was back and it was really a complicated day.  Too much to do, not enough time do it in, and then he drained the car battery because he didn’t turn the key all the way off – third time with this particular car that he has done this.  Then, it took 10 minutes to dig through the trunk full of crap (Will’s crap) to find the jumper cables.  I was thinking “If I was by myself, this wouldn’t be happening.”  Relaying this story to my trainer this morning, he just grinned and said, “You know you love it.”

Too true.  Sometimes I wonder about myself.

Telling Will all of this (I complain, but I tell him about those complaints because I tell him about everything) and he said, “Empty bed syndrome.”

Empty Bed Syndrome was a term Will coined when he was living with his previous girlfriend.  In the mornings, she would often have to get ready and leave for school before he had to leave for work (that sentence makes him sound like a pedophile – she was in college, he wasn’t that semester, they were the same age).  He would get the whole bed to himself.  He could stretch out, have all the pillows, full use of all of the blankets, basically, he could hog the bed.  However, the down side was that he was in the bed alone, and beds are often made more comfy by the people who are in them next to you.

I enjoyed all of the pleasure and the displeasure of Empty Bed Syndrome this weekend.  Glad he is home.

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