Home Alone
I'm left alone tonight. It's not so bad, but fires up anxiety in me for a while, then I'm found streaking the house naked singing Stay up Late! It does however take me a while to sink into that role. Home? By myself???? What if I choke? Then after a few glasses of wine... it turns to, "you can totally act out!" You can do projects! You can oh... my god..... stop the heat Nazi and raise the thermostat!
Thing is, I do this shit when he's here anyway, we take our corners and don't talk much to eachother... it's just having another human in the house that matters. Damn, that sounds cold. You guys understand, I'm mad for him, we just don't need to be on top of eachother 24/7. It likely wouldn't work if we were.
Mr. Morgan is out with friends watching Cloverfield. Fucker! He KNOWS I want to see that and said we would watch it together another time. Gee, that's fun? Re-run. He then said, and no I didn't protest, "I never get to go out with my friends." GET? I baffled because when have I ever told him what to do, or not to? Anyone who reads knows well that first off no one tells him what to do, ever. It solidifies that when he said inconvenient he meant exactly what I said he did. He doesn't "get" to go out. For fuck's sake, give me a god dammed break that shit is seriously laughable and was greeted with such. I never tell that man that shit, other than will you turn your fucking clothing right side out. And he knows it. Controlling bitch, not this girl, too busy being neurotic. Told you I knew what he meant, he somehow thinks he needs to feel guilty to go out and alike, and that is his problem. I don't put anything on him other than a "you've lost your brain" look when he gets worried I'm going to fit over a boys night out. Did I want to go? Yes. But did I want to be the wife showing up at a boy's night movie? God no. I can just see them thinking "Fuuuuuuck! Man she came?" Even though they like me, Ray questionable, it's their night, no wife required, I get it.
It still left me idle. After work comes this:
1. Come home and frown for ten minutes. In place.
2. Ask the dogs questions, and attempt to communicate with the Russian via gestures and facial expressions.
3. Consider jacking off.
4. Turn on the TV and watch a little Ellen, still frowning and talking to the dogs who are interested in dialogue when cheese is involved. Otherwise I need to make an appointment I have been informed.
5. Counted remaining cigarettes. The frown deepens.
6. Looked for batteries to achieve #3.
7. Thought about what to set out to wear tomorrow and how hard I would rock the outfit.
8. Found batteries.
9. Tried #3 to find two sets of eyes staring at me, accusingly no less. Drat.
10. Stared at socked feet for a half-hour, wondering why we have five toes on each foot.
11. Recounted cigarettes.
12. Checked blog, no comments. Sat annoyed for 15 minutes. Stewing.
13. Paced the house.
14. Began blaming the dogs for shit because I went bored and dammit someone HAD to be responsible.
15. Smoked for the sake of “oh my god I’m almost out!” nervousness.
16. Wondered who I could call, and praying for an instant message.
17. Twirled hair at length.
18. Thought about a shower then reconsidered because I’d get all…. ya know…. wet. Towels and soap and shit. Effort.
19. Decided to go to bed and read, or pretend to.
20. Back up, pacing.
21. Hey I know! Baskin Robbins! We even have money! (I said to the dogs with excitement) Wait, no, you’ve been drinking stupid.
22. Feed dogs and give Leedy medicine. Bitch while doing so for her overturning the bowl of kibble like she does every fucking day. “You will eat what’s on the floor!” Then relent but the bitching simply turns to a mumble.
23. Have gone lonesome enough to have a Dr. Phil episode with the dogs. The show topic was “Why must you eat the couch?”
24. Stare at my feet some more.
25. Decide on my completely preppy suit/vest and tie outfit, and realize I need to be hosed down for proper hair.
26. Sulk about it.
27. Blame the Russian. It all sounds the same to him anyhow.
28. Look up my spanish word of the day and select “annoying” = Pesado.
29. Write Mr. Morgan a loving note hoping he enjoyed the movie. a lo hecho pecho (think before you speak.... get to go out... oughta bust your ass for that shit. Strike 2 in the last month. Behave.
30. Streak the house with arms all over the place!
31. Ignore the spotted dog looking at me with that "You really need to cover that shit up" face.
-DM
ps - RIP Heath. Damn, just damn.
pps- don't forget to see the lower two new entries. I suppose I could say writing to Jude for something special over a month long of asking and explaining was inconvenient, but I'm not one to throw a word in the face. At least not to Mr. Morgan. He just should... yeah well, get me a flower.
Thing is, I do this shit when he's here anyway, we take our corners and don't talk much to eachother... it's just having another human in the house that matters. Damn, that sounds cold. You guys understand, I'm mad for him, we just don't need to be on top of eachother 24/7. It likely wouldn't work if we were.
Mr. Morgan is out with friends watching Cloverfield. Fucker! He KNOWS I want to see that and said we would watch it together another time. Gee, that's fun? Re-run. He then said, and no I didn't protest, "I never get to go out with my friends." GET? I baffled because when have I ever told him what to do, or not to? Anyone who reads knows well that first off no one tells him what to do, ever. It solidifies that when he said inconvenient he meant exactly what I said he did. He doesn't "get" to go out. For fuck's sake, give me a god dammed break that shit is seriously laughable and was greeted with such. I never tell that man that shit, other than will you turn your fucking clothing right side out. And he knows it. Controlling bitch, not this girl, too busy being neurotic. Told you I knew what he meant, he somehow thinks he needs to feel guilty to go out and alike, and that is his problem. I don't put anything on him other than a "you've lost your brain" look when he gets worried I'm going to fit over a boys night out. Did I want to go? Yes. But did I want to be the wife showing up at a boy's night movie? God no. I can just see them thinking "Fuuuuuuck! Man she came?" Even though they like me, Ray questionable, it's their night, no wife required, I get it.
It still left me idle. After work comes this:
1. Come home and frown for ten minutes. In place.
2. Ask the dogs questions, and attempt to communicate with the Russian via gestures and facial expressions.
3. Consider jacking off.
4. Turn on the TV and watch a little Ellen, still frowning and talking to the dogs who are interested in dialogue when cheese is involved. Otherwise I need to make an appointment I have been informed.
5. Counted remaining cigarettes. The frown deepens.
6. Looked for batteries to achieve #3.
7. Thought about what to set out to wear tomorrow and how hard I would rock the outfit.
8. Found batteries.
9. Tried #3 to find two sets of eyes staring at me, accusingly no less. Drat.
10. Stared at socked feet for a half-hour, wondering why we have five toes on each foot.
11. Recounted cigarettes.
12. Checked blog, no comments. Sat annoyed for 15 minutes. Stewing.
13. Paced the house.
14. Began blaming the dogs for shit because I went bored and dammit someone HAD to be responsible.
15. Smoked for the sake of “oh my god I’m almost out!” nervousness.
16. Wondered who I could call, and praying for an instant message.
17. Twirled hair at length.
18. Thought about a shower then reconsidered because I’d get all…. ya know…. wet. Towels and soap and shit. Effort.
19. Decided to go to bed and read, or pretend to.
20. Back up, pacing.
21. Hey I know! Baskin Robbins! We even have money! (I said to the dogs with excitement) Wait, no, you’ve been drinking stupid.
22. Feed dogs and give Leedy medicine. Bitch while doing so for her overturning the bowl of kibble like she does every fucking day. “You will eat what’s on the floor!” Then relent but the bitching simply turns to a mumble.
23. Have gone lonesome enough to have a Dr. Phil episode with the dogs. The show topic was “Why must you eat the couch?”
24. Stare at my feet some more.
25. Decide on my completely preppy suit/vest and tie outfit, and realize I need to be hosed down for proper hair.
26. Sulk about it.
27. Blame the Russian. It all sounds the same to him anyhow.
28. Look up my spanish word of the day and select “annoying” = Pesado.
29. Write Mr. Morgan a loving note hoping he enjoyed the movie. a lo hecho pecho (think before you speak.... get to go out... oughta bust your ass for that shit. Strike 2 in the last month. Behave.
30. Streak the house with arms all over the place!
31. Ignore the spotted dog looking at me with that "You really need to cover that shit up" face.
-DM
ps - RIP Heath. Damn, just damn.
pps- don't forget to see the lower two new entries. I suppose I could say writing to Jude for something special over a month long of asking and explaining was inconvenient, but I'm not one to throw a word in the face. At least not to Mr. Morgan. He just should... yeah well, get me a flower.
posted by DMorgan's Zoo at
5:43 PM
6 Comments:
Believe me, your loyal readers know that you are most definitely not a controlling wife, ha!
ROFL on that list, cracked me right up!! Why DO we have 5 toes??
RIP Heath, that one is still shocking me. His poor little girl :(
I'm so bummed about Heath. What a waste of a perfectly good talent. Great list! I love being all alone in my house, but I REALLY REALLY love being all alone in my house with my hottie. You know, when you're all alone and feeling like you need to be chatty, feel free to give me a call. I happen to be a very gifted conversationalist....although I was at work last night mustering all of my human strength to not do something completely stupid. Yes, I stayed strong.
looks like a fine evening to me. I shudder to think what mine would look like if I layed it out. probably something like this,
1. changed to pj's.
2. whined about feeding the children.
3. drive to closest fast food for children's dinner.
4. watch netflix or game rest of night.
sigh.
gonna have to work on that.
How would your night be different if he was home????
Home Alone are two words that never describe me. I would LOVE to have one night alone...I think. I wouldn't know what to do with myself either.
Lol Miss Nev... did you resist torching the place or what? Do tell!
And hai Prada, nothing different other than what I now call Masturbation Theater, since I had an audience.
-DM
I worked a party of 500 + men....and let's just say I found myself way dang tempted with one particular cutie pie. He was adorable and attentive and very persuasive. (I'm NEVER tempted from my hottie...he is the BEST thing in the world to me). I held strong, but I'm almost sick that I came close. I really should have been home compiling my own list!
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