DH has been in Greece since Monday morning which means I am slightly more than halfway through my “alone” week. He had more vacation than me and it was more meaningful for him to be in the village for a longer time so he left early. I begin my epic journey on Saturday. Which I am not looking forward to. Five airports, a 9.5 hour layover and a two hour car ride will get me to my final destination. And then three days later I’ll start repeating the process, albeit over 10 days, all over again.
I quite enjoy being alone in the house during the day. I can eat when I want (dinner is promptly served at 10pm) and surprisingly I haven’t succumbed to chips or popcorn yet. I’ve made balanced meals and planned ahead and have even had leftovers. I’ve cleaned up after the insulation fiasco ALL BY MYSELF (no bitterness here) and I can spend as much time on the computer as I please.
What I don’t enjoy are the nights. My home-alone-paranoia has really ramped up and let me tell you, it’s pretty hard to sleep in a creaky, dark, 73 year old Money Pit all by yourself. Or maybe that’s just me. I’ve been averaging 4 hours of sleep a night and it’s starting to show now. I’ve caught myself leaving the house with no make up, no shoes and no coffee. I’m beginning to look forward to the epic flights as I should be able to catch up on my sleep. And forget about going to the basement. It’s dark and creepy down there at night and I’m pretty sure something wakes up under the stairs as soon as the sun goes down.
Plus I miss DH too. While we’ve spoken on the phone a few times, it’s not the same as talking face to face. The cat hasn’t spent more than four conscious hours in the house since DH left so I’m left talking to myself. Or the radio. Which, as we still have no curtains on the main floor, must make me look like a crazy woman to anyone walking past and looking in. Besides, after close to a week alone I’ve decided I’m a boring conversationalist. And let’s not overlook DH’s ability to fight off the basement zombies, the maurading raccoons, assorted boogie men and the monster living in the closet. Even though DH sleeps like the dead, it’s still comforting to have him beside me at night. At the very least he’ll be the sacrificial victim and I can flee to safety.