If I had a weekend to myself

This is part of the Crazy Hip Blog Mamas collective writing project. While I don’t think I can top Susan’s post, as she basically summed it up (the thought of having someone else worry about what to make for dinner and how to clean up after it is just too wondrous to contemplate), I have been thinking long and hard about what a weekend alone at home might be like. As while I have spent weekends away from my kids, I have never spent the night alone in my own house.

If I had a weekend alone in my house, I would sleep as long as I could (like 7 am!) and then get up to make some coffee with plans to get back into bed and read. Except when I got downstairs I would realize there was no skim milk, and I only drink my coffee with skim milk. As I stood at the fridge debating a run to 7-Eleven I would realize that the cats needed to be fed and the dishes in the dishwasher needed to be emptied. By the time I got that done I would be too awake to crawl back into bed so I would give up on the coffee in bed idea and probably whip out the laptop and check on some blogs instead (Hi bloggy friends!).

I would contemplate writing an entry of my own but then remember that there was a load of laundry in the washing machine that really needed to go into the dryer. Upon opening the dryer I would find a load of laundry sitting in there waiting to be folded. I would carry that load upstairs and put it on the bed and then decide to take a shower instead of folding (see, the weekend isn’t a total loss yet! No laundry folding!). After the shower I would think about pulling out a book but decide to peruse my cookbooks instead.

After browsing through some favorites and drooling I would decide that really, since I had to the time, I should plan out a menu for the week to save myself the hassle of the last minute dinner scramble. I would drool over some more recipes then make up a grocery list. Since I already know I am out of milk and I might want a coffee tomorrow morning, I would decide to go to the grocery store. But wait, it gets more exciting! I swear!

On the way to the grocery store I would have to stop for gas. Because whichever car I am driving is always out of gas. While sitting at the gas station I would realize that I had no cash and then head to the bank. The ATM would be out of cash, forcing me to make the rounds of all the banks in town to find money. After finally procuring enough cash for the week, my tummy would start growling.

Here comes the really exciting part; I would go out to lunch. At my favorite restaurant. By myself. I MIGHT even order a brunch cocktail. If I got the cocktail, I would then have to head home for a nap, because a mimosa at noon would put me right to sleep. But upon arriving home I would find the laundry basket and begin folding. I would probably turn on the TV Food Network, my new addiction, and get sucked into a Rachel Ray marathon. By the time Emeril came on it would be dinnertime.

I would debate ordering out but then feel guilty about making the delivery guy come out for just one person. So I would probably dig a frozen pizza out of the freezer, a close second to takeout. Really! While eating my pizza I would check in on some more blogs (Hi again, bloggy friends!). I would again contemplate an entry of my own, and might even start one. But then I would remember the laundry in the dryer and decide to get a jump start on the week and fold that too.

While folding I would probably turn on the TV again, this time to a sappy chick flick on USA or TBS. I would get sucked into the heart wrenching storyline and crawl into bed with a box of tissues. I would fall asleep with the TV on, but about 2 am I would be woken up by the cat who had gotten left outside. I would troop downstairs to let him in and then head back to bed. But the act of trooping downstairs would wake me up enough that I would toss and turn until 5 am, and finally fall back asleep.

I would wake up at 7 am, head downstairs to make my coffee, and realize that I had never actually made it to the grocery store the day before. I would again debate the run to 7-Eleven, and then get sidetracked again by the cat feeding. At least there would be no dishwasher to empty. I would then race around trying to pick up the house before M and the kids arrived home, and might even make it to the grocery store. Everyone would arrive home, M would ask me what I did, and when I described the weekend to him, he would look at me funny and make a mental note that he was never ever taking the kids away again because really, what was the point.

And that folks, is probably exactly how a weekend alone at home would be. Oh, the excitement. Except, you know, it still sounds kind of lovely. Laundry folding and all.

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