The Night Life, Tuna Style

My husband is flying tonight.

It's been a while since he's had a night flight. And it's been half a year since he was deployed.

I've forgotten what it was like to have an entire evening to fill by myself. Albeit, an evening when I cannot leave the house.

I took the kids out to dinner after their homework was done and they had played outside for a while. Then I took them to the bookstore and spoiled them rotten.

I considered renting a movie for myself, but it was getting late and we had to get home for violin practice and baths. So I figured I'd watch some TiVo instead.

But by 9 p.m. I was bored out of my skull. I sprawled across my bed and just thought and talked to myself for over an hour.

I should never ever, under any circumstances, spend that much time in my own head. It is a scary place to be.

I've been cruising along as happy as a clam here for a while. And then wham! Someone must have pulled the emergency breaks. (I'm betting that someone was my hormones. Damn hormones!) And I've been singing the I hate myself song.

Do you know that song? I think everybody has their own version. Mine is to the tune of I Touch Myself by The Divinyls. What does that say about me? No wait. Don't answer that.

Blech.

I know I should go to bed.

Waiting up until 3 a.m. when my husband will probably be home will not make for a happy Tuna Girl in the morning. And I have to substitute in my daughter's class for a couple of hours, with my son in tow. So I need to be on top of my game. God! How I dread that.

But greeting my husband when he gets home, and asking him, "How was your flight?" will make me feel better. And snuggling up next to his warm body and listening to his heart beat and hearing him tell me how much he loves me will make me feel great.

In fact, sucking up some of his good vibe may even give me the strength to deal with 42 first graders tomorrow.

Or not.

I'm betting on not.

Quick! Trade lives with me?