This morning I woke up in a panic. Living at my parent’s house has it’s advantages and disadvantages. One of those disadvantages is sitting on the kitchen counter: a list of things to do while they are on vacation. These are better known as chores.
It’s not really that bad, all they asked is that I pick up the papers to stave off potential robbers. These robbers would see those papers and realize the house is no longer protected by my father and step-mother, an easy target indeed.
Other things include sending out a letter and picking up the mail. But the thing that caused my panicked awakening was the fact that I remembered at 5:10am that the cleaning lady was coming today, and I had to be to work at 6am. This was a problem considering that the top two floors of our (ugh) four story townhouse, which includes my room and the tv room, are trashed.
My bags and bags of clothes and junk from my wife and my’s recent move has left me with an enormous amount of stuff that I have not gone through. So I woke up this morning and frenzilied ran around throwing things into closets so they wouldn’t be in the way of the cleaning lady. Now, I will NEVER understand why you have to clean your house before the cleaning lady comes, but that’s a whole different story.
But the point of this is that while rummaging through everything I ran into stuff that belong to my wife that really made me miss her. And it was weird stuff. It wasn’t a crocheted heart that she gave me on an anniversary (she doesn’t crochet), it was a random pair of pajama pants on the floor and a bottle of perfume sitting on the bathroom sink. I jumped into the shower and even started to miss seeing the hair she would put on the shower wall, something that used to bother me.
I miss her constantly. I miss her presence, I miss the way she smells, I miss holding her, I miss her tiny hands. I miss the way she pouts, a rare moment I captured when we moved into our apartment last year. You can liken this to snapping a picture of the last living albino jaguar.
But the biggest thing I miss is the fact that she is my home base. When I have a bad day the best remedy for it is just being with her. Needless to say, talking to her through my macbook pro has not been an adequate replacement.
I knew being apart from her would be hard, but I thought I would be prepared considering we had done long distance before. This is a whole different monster, and the fact that I will see her in less than 3 weeks is unfortunately not making me feel much better.
But I suppose I don’t have it as bad as her. At least I have my family and friends here, and she is down there without them. So I guess I should count my blessings instead of thinking about the bad things. It’s just so much harder than I expected.