Home Alone

There was a time, oh, not so long ago, say, three or four weeks, when all I wanted was to be alone, curled up in the Poderosa, in the Comfy Chair, in my own little world. It seemed I was gone almost every night, on the road here or there, band concerts, weekends in B'burg, support group meetings, pedicures, haircuts, clarinet quartets, meetings for TheCompanyIWorkFor, or any number of other things to occupy my time and my gas budget, which has inflated itself to hundreds per month.

And I wanted to shut a giant door on that, slip into the Big Calgon Tub of Life, and spend some quality time with myself doing nothing in particular.

Thing is, a couple of weeks ago, I got my wish. Concerts stopped for the summer, quartets are on hold, support group meetings are on hold, nothing work-wise, Mr M came to visit me one weekend instead of vice-versa, and I was finding myself virtually every weeknight alone and left to my own devices. I'd walk, or exercise, or swim, then come back here and have a quick meal (they're all quick these days), and have a whole glorious evening all to myself!

Where I'd promptly fall asleep in the Comfy Chair, missing out on all the movies I was going see, books I was going to read, and TV shows I was going to catch up on.

Tonight was Community Band's first practice of the season, after about a month of hibernation. And to be honest, I was excited about it. I've been practicing a little, enough to remember how to play my horn, anyway, and I was kind of pumped to leave work and hit the road.

And then, band got canceled. Up here in Virginia we're getting the remnants of Hurricane Frances. So we're having heavy rains (some places heavier than others, here in B'field it's been quite manageable so far). And B'burg closed their schools this afternoon, which mean they unilaterally closed down band as well (since we practice at the high school).

So I was disappointed. So disappointed that instead of sitting by myself at home I headed out to the folks' house, where I promptly - fell asleep on their loveseat, my own personal womb. There's something about their loveseat. I go to their house, my ass touches it, and I'm gone for at least an hour. It was about 90 minutes tonight. I'm such a bad houseguest.

Oh well. At least I saved on gas.

Betland's Olympic Update:
* I was thinking today about Chem-Sod. Is there anyone out there old enough to know what that is? Remember back in the days of elementary school when some schmuck was unfortunate enough to lose his lunch in front of the whole class? They'd send for the school janitor - a job I'm convinced gets you an automatic pass right into heaven - and he'd come with a broom and a can of Chem-Sod. Which he'd proceed to sprinkle on the offending gak, then sweep it up and then we were all supposed to go on as if nothing happened, though it was impossible because even the thought of being in a room where someone barfed sent waves of nausea through every kid for the rest of the day. And the thing of it was, the Chem-Sod smelled as bad as the vomit. And the mix of the two together? Well, I'm in mid-retch just thinking about it. I got to thinking about Chem-Sod today while looking at "janitorial supplies" in an office supply catalog, no one at work heaved or anything, but it wasn't in the book. I looked it up on the 'net and didn't get any hits, either. I wonder if it still exists.