Boring is as Boring Does

When one has been married several years, one begins to long for certain things. It goes beyond yearning for control of the remote; not having to explain, yet again, how to make a fried egg; not asking if the bathroom is habitable; wondering just what it is about the Stargate franchise that is so hypnotic; being able to wash your clothes in a scented detergent, because it all stinks, don't you know; or being able to go to the grocery without bringing home a pound of bologna or hot dogs. No, none of these is longed for more than a few days alone with the dog while hubby is away on business.

One makes exotic plans of things one would do if hubby were not around passing judgement on all the plans and commenting on their infeasibility, stupidity, trivialness, or grotesqueness. One thinks of organizing one's stash while watching one's favorite t.v. shows uninterrupted. No mean voice saying, "You have too much yarn!" or "You want to watch that stupid show?" One reads the Yarn Harlot and thinks, "Hey, I could redo our bedroom, too." One thinks of all the unfinished objects (UFO's) lingering in the knitting bags one could finish while sitting on the couch with the dog watching one's favorite shows on t.v., including frequent pausing the action to drool a little more obviously at certain nerdy, hunky actors. (Why hubby doesn't like me shouting out the number on the do-ability scale of my fav actors, I will never understand. He watched all the seasons of Charmed, even the ones after Shannon Dougherty left and the show was so craptastic that one could barf. I know he wasn't watching it because the story line was fabulous. No, I think it was Holly Combs, Alyssa Milano, and Rose McGowen motivating him to tune in each week.)

The sad reality is that one hauls one's butt out of bed in the morning, puts in an 8 hour day, arrives home dragging one's butt through the front door to find what you thought was sheer poochy joy at seeing you, disintegration when one realizes that the poocher only wants to be fed. This realization seems to suck all the joy out of coming home, so one makes macaroni and cheese, rips out the toe of the sock that one knit sideways, settles in with the remote, in one's jammies and fuzzy socks on the sofa. The thought of catching up on the Elfin Lace Shawl knit along seems too complicated. So after fixing said sock, one pulls out a one skein hat pattern, some Noro Silk Garden and knits in circles the rest of the evening.

One would get up to get a Murphy's Irish Red out of the fridge, but it would tear one away from Law and Order and CSI. It is at this point one realizes that one has become a man, because the La-Z-Boy sofa would seem so much more convenient if it had a model that included a toilet and snack fridge.

Just when one starts to think that one's wry observations about the male of the species in general is sheer envy, especially spewing vile, bodily toxins into the atmosphere with abandon, impunity and nondiscrimination, one is gassed by the dog. When asking if it is possible that dog fart is absorbed by wool and if so, how one would remove the stench, one only receives the poocher finger in response.

Actually, this stage lasts about three days. On the dawn of the fourth day, one wakes up resigned to the reality that it is just another week and all the grand plans are only dreams. It is kind of like single people believing that getting married and having kids keeps you from having phenomenal sex. It is only once you are married that you realize that scaring the neighbors is fine when you're in college and the only neighbors you are scaring are freshmen. When you might possibly need to borrow your neighbor's lawn mower you want to be able to look them in the eye when you ask them.

The same is true when the spouse is away. You fantasize about all the things you will do, but in your heart you know the reality is the same thing that forces you out of the house on the worst mornings to fulfill your obligations. Boring as hell, but sometimes boring has its own rewards, like getting some knitting done while watching your favorite t.v. shows uninterrupted.