I am sitting on my newly assembled Lisabo table from IKEA, wondering how will I spend the next three days while Mister is away for the weekend to bid his friend farewell (aka boys’ trip). I am perfectly content in staying glued to the couch, ordering in chinese and pizza alternatively, and enjoy trashy romance novels and even trashier chick-flicks. All guilty pleasures combined into one weekend!
But in all honesty, I can do all of this while he’s home as well (he’s a sweetheart, and has accepted by gluttonous ways). So how do I make these three days, in a place I have yet to accept as home, less dreadful and more fun? After a lot of thinking (30 minutes to be exact), here’s the plan:
- Eat what I like but he doesn’t. Or is bad for me and he doesn’t approve. Like lasagna, okra, prawns, brownies, big tub of Ben & Jerry’s Chocolate Fudge Brownie, M&M peanut, salted crisps, and so on!
- Do girl things – like put on a mask, tweeze in the lounge, pedicure on the couch. You know the drill.
- Catch up with girl friends – I can do that when he’s in town too but it’s just different when you are on your own, and don’t have anyone to go home to. I know my single friends are nodding in agreement somewhere.
- Sleep diagonally. Even horizontally works.
- Go on a coffee date with myself. I will be hanging out at Starbucks a lot this weekend. Oh, by the way, their Christmas offerings are now available. Hello hot chocolate with marshmallows!
- Live like an unapologetic slob. I am going to be swimming in a pool of clothes this weekend. And sleeping with them on my bed as well. Not touch dishes at all. Take out trash if I really really must. I can be a slob par excellence and will be putting on a stellar show.
- Have popcorn in bed. Not a lot pisses N off, but food crumbs in bed and he’s red in the face. All bets are off when he’s away though, right? I can roll in popcorn flakes all weekend, and no one will bat an infuriated eyelash. Goal!
- Sleep like a dead log. From 6am to 6pm. I may not be Martha Stewart with an apron on, but I can worry like a pro. I often wake up worrying if N has had breakfast if I get up later than him on weekends. And I am usually right to worry. He’s happily munching on cereal, without milk. Or would have gone on to fruits by then. But this weekend, no worries.
- Go to the gym. Okay, I’d like to at least think that I will. And you can let that pass without calling me out on it. Seriously, what do you get from pushing me out of my happy place?
- Not get into trouble. Or sick. Or lock myself out. I wouldn’t know who to call, and even if I did, they wouldn’t understand a thing I say. ‘Aur na seekho German‘ I can almost hear Mother India saying in the background…
Lastly, a non-bonus: Frantically clean up an hour before he’s scheduled to be home!