There are many reasons I’m not really cut out for the sort of long-distance relationship Mister Husband and I find ourselves conducting these past few months. But one of the most surprising reasons to me is that I evidently lose all sense of a civilized home life, and it happens quicker each time we split off again. A couple of months ago, I still cooked but made G come over all the time to help me eat things. Then I just didn't cook as much and ate out more. Now, I not only haven't cooked in a week but also haven't even eaten here. Last night, I forgot to eat at all. This morning, I finally unloaded the dishwasher and put away the plates C and I used Monday when she brought over a huge sack of food from the Holy Land deli. I worked on those leftovers off and on all week, and the containers are all still stacked by the trash, which needs to go out. The couch is completely covered in various peripheral cables. Last night I was out at the 331 waiting for a jug band to come on, all femmed up, stone sober and sipping club soda, instead of at home on my couch with a comfortable beer. I suddenly notice I should be texting more and phoning less, and I hate my current txt interface. The bed hasn't been made in days and I find myself conducting my business from it just because nobody else is sleeping different hours in it and therefore I can.

Thankfully, he'll be back late in the week and I'll be temporarily saved from myself. Today, I have sworn that I'll muck this place out, clean the cars, and cook some damn chicken and asparagus for dinner. Which I'll need to buy, along with some milk.