What I last ate Leftover pizza
What I last drank A Cosmopolitan
Song in my head Still the Same (you know, the old Bob Seger tune...)
I'm sure I know your next question. "What, praytell are you doing writing a journal entry on here at 7:45 on your anniversary?" The answer is a simple one and also has something to do with why my dinner consisted of pizza and a martini.
My husband works nights. He's been on this shift for two whole weeks now. At first, I must admit, I kinda liked it. I watched some really bad t.v., did a few crossword puzzles, sat on the internet for quite sometime, and generally did nothing of interest just because I could. It was quite a novelty. Like when your a kid and your parents go out of town and you don't quite know what to do with yourself. I'm over that. Now I'm just flat ass bored out of my friggin mind!
My Italian heritage permits me from being able to cook a meal for just myself. I wouldn't know where to begin. Last Christmas I cooked dinner at my house for 13 people. Not a problem. Easy. I have a Cinco.. okay, Drunko de Mayo party and feed roughly 20 to 25 people. Piece of cake. Me? I've moved to eating really large lunches and then whatever tidbit I find in the pantry or fridge for dinner.
My little girl is about ready to start walking so she gets totally exhausted falls asleep in my lap every night at 7pm. This is my FAVORITE part of my day. My dad had a birthday party not too long ago and someone asked if I rock her to sleep everyday. My answer was, "Oh hell yes." It may look odd (she is 8 months old and the same size as most 15 month olds...) but it is my time. Then it begins. What they hell do I do with myself until I eventually fall asleep?
And sleeping is just not good either. I miss my husband. He's big and snuggly. I have found I'm beginning to lie in bed talking to myself. This is bad. People at work are ntoicing I'm not as talkative (and I'm REALLY talkative. I firmly believe we all have a certain amount of words we can use in a 24 hour period. Everyone's amount is different. I'm wasting mine on myself. I'm glad I like me. I listen. The nice thing is that when I wake up, he's there! I have little to no recollection of him coming home he's just THERE! POOF! I like that part.
So that's my pitiful diary entry for the day. I'm going to go search through the old papers for a crossword...