My husband has been out of town for 24 hours and I miss him.
Last night I stayed up until 2AM simply because I think I was subconsciously waiting for him to come to bed before I turned off my light. I stayed up reading and watching old re-runs of ‘Sex & the City’ on the small TV perched on the tall dresser in the corner of the bedroom. The voices and people on the screen made me feel less alone.
I’ve been hooked on ‘Sex & the City’ ever since they started playing re-runs on one of the local stations here. I became so hooked that I asked Chris to rent a season on DVD for me so I could watch it on one of our recent trips. It turns out, however, that the episodes I’ve been watching on TV are EXTREMELY EDITED, so when I put in the DVD to watch a full length, un-edited episode, I was SHOCKED. I blushed and turned the volume down and then turned it off completely because, well, I guess I just do not enjoy watching soft porn in airports. I think I’ll stick with my “edited for TV” version, thankyouverymuch.
I curled up in bed last night and ate some Salt & Vinegar chips because Salty is my best friend. I finished the book I was reading, “PLAN B: Further Thoughts on Faith” by Anne Lamott, and underlined nearly every word in the second to last chapter.
I still was restless, so I picked up the collection of Ernest Hemingway’s short stories (the book that got me hit on for the first time in… ever) and figured I’d read as many short stories as I needed to before falling asleep. After reading for awhile, I decided to stick a pillow under the covers next to me- to try and trick myself into believing Chris was there. It did not work because Chris does not have the stature of a pillow; he has the stature of a handsome bean pole. I was not fooled. So I kept reading.
My mind started to play tricks on me. I rolled over and imagined seeing a stranger standing silently in the doorway of my bedroom. My heart started to pound. Should I go get my cell phone just in case? I imagined what I would do if that really happened. Would I remember to run and grab Ezra before I bolted out of the house? These thoughts make me feel nauseous, so I do what I always do when I get freaked out. I say the name “Jesus” really loud, thinking it will spook all the boogie-men away, because I imagine boogies are freaked out by that sort of thing. Then, I remembered some of the best advice I have EVER RECEIVED in my whole entire life:
My brother, Jaxon, told me (when I was probably 6 years old or so), that all I had to do when I was scared was picture Garfield the Cat swinging into the scene on a vine rope- kicking all the bad guys butts and easily saving the day. So, I did just that.
I started to feel better after that, like I always do, so I kept reading.
I thought about bringing Ezra into the bed with me, to bring me back to reality, but then decided against it. For such a small guy, he can take up A LOT of room when he’s sleeping. And I do not like to snuggle when I am falling asleep. I need my space.
The story I was reading was about a man who was camping alone in the wilderness. He set up camp by a stream and spent the days fly fishing. In the mornings he caught grasshoppers as bait while his coffee was brewing and his grits were cooking over the fire. When he spoke out loud to himself, his voice was shocking and seemed out of place because there was no one around to hear it. He was alone.
I felt like that guy in the wilderness last night, too.
I eventually (finally!) drifted off to sleep- dreaming about buying Scottish kilts from stores that were carved out of big boulders.