To say that my husband works long hours would be an understatement.
Eight times per month, he works a 36-hour call shift that gets him home 30 hours later if he’s lucky and 40 hours later if he’s not.
Suffice it to say that I spend a lot of time alone.
While I wish he was home more, and that he had a “normal” job and worked “normal” hours, I know that’ll never be the case, so I try not to dwell on it. Instead, I try to focus on the positives of solitude.
One positive is that I can eat popcorn in bed while writing on my blog. (I am doing this now.)
Another positive is that my cats don’t seem to find our queen bed quite as crowded when Jon is away, and they come and sleep with me all night. My feet are always toasty warm.
My second cat, Cheese, is especially snuggly, and quite aggressive about getting her cuddle time in and staying warm. (She is snuggling with me now and eating some of my popcorn.)
Another positive is that I get to watch corny 80s movies like Working Girl without fear of being teased for my extreme corniness. (Cheese and the popcorn and I are doing this now.)
So, here I am, my first fat cat on my feet, my second little cat on my lap, a bag of popcorn at my side, the three of us all snuggled up together in my queen bed with Netflix on our laps.
It’s a pretty good night, no matter how you slice it.