You don’t bring me take-out

Janie is out with some friends from work tonight which means two things: I am home alone and she will not bring me anything from the restaurant. This is an ongoing situation. She goes out into the world to enjoy a meal with friends and when she returns, no snacks. Every time. Even though we have the same discussion upon each empty-handed return about how I’d like some sushi, or an enchilada or that mushy stuff from the Indian restaurant because I waited all night for it without eating anything except for Harlow. Still, however, she “forgets” time and time again. Her forgetfulness is no longer believable to me though, because she started telling me as soon as she walks into the door “I forgot to bring you something.” Just this morning she said to me, “Don’t forget that I’m going out to dinner tonight. Oops, sorry, I forgot to bring you something.” I’m prepared tonight, though. I have a flank steak to enjoy, which she reminded me of on the phone just before telling me, “When I get home, I’m going to have some of your steak because at the restaurant I’m only having a salad, which I will forget to bring some of home for you. Sorry.”

Janie and I tend to spend much of our time together, more than most couples I know. The simple truth is, I enjoy her company. She makes me laugh. I make her cry. It’s a symbiotic relationship. I will admit, however, that on these nights, when she forgets to bring me some dinner, I enjoy my alone time. Not because I get to lounge around and read, take a bath with fresh-scented sea salts, or because I get to sit on the couch and watch pornography. No. What I get to do is clean the house and for a very small period of time, enjoy the fact that all our surfaces are free from used tea bags, tea cups and half-empty glasses of water. I get to revel in a floor free from last night’s socks and this morning’s pajama bottoms. I will , for at least an hour, not have to see a crumpled receipt on the dresser, nightstand, bookshelf, kitchen counter, side table, television top or on the vanity. It’s like Christmas morning, only the presents are cleanliness and the smell of Pine Sol.

5 Comments

  1. November 9, 2007

    Add a banana peel languishing in the recycling bin and we could be married to the same person! Enjoy your brief respite of cleanliness.

  2. November 9, 2007

    Hrumph. As if.

  3. November 10, 2007

    I feel your pain, except I am the slob around here. What’s worse, is I can see myself NOT cleaning up after myself, but I can’t stop NOT doing it. It’s crazy, and uh, messy.

  4. November 11, 2007

    I love my occasional evening alone! The laundry gets done, the dishes are washed, and every once in a blessed while, I mop the kitchen floor. I love treating myself to takeout and eating it in front of the TV – I feel so decadent.

  5. heathen
    November 11, 2007

    absolutely. since Janie is unable t have gluten, I sometimes use the opportunity to have something like pizza so she doesn’t have to sit and watch me eat it, longing for a piece of her own.

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