Saturday, March 1, 2014

It was fun while it lasted...

I like to write my blog based on things that happened either recently or that day, or at least something that is relevant at that moment in my life. At this point though I am not sure I should. Because while I sit with the iPad in my lap I am looking across at my husband. He is sitting up, book in lap, completely passed out and in FULL-ON, alcohol-induced, sleep apnea coma. H.O.T ----N.O.T.!

We were invited to a birthday party and had a lovely time, actually we didn't really see each other the entire time. I had wonderful conversations with people I usually only see as we are hectically dropping off or picking up our children at preschool. It was nice to see each other in a relaxed, showered and made up way (I speak for myself when I say that I am NEVER showered, made up nor relaxed, I am not a morning person and I lack executive-functioning skills, so I am constantly looking as though I am late for something or have lost something).

Tonight my husband was quite relaxed and enjoyed meeting some guys from town that we have only met a few other times, but again don't really ever get to converse at length with; I was glad to see him enjoying himself.

After I finished listening to THE BEST story about a couple (that shall remain nameless) who moved into a co-housing community only to find out it was polyamorous AFTER they signed their names and got the keys to their eco-townhouse. I tell you if I didn't think she should write about it I would fill my blog about this place. Talk about a creative writers dream. What a refreshing night, to hear her talk about this place, so much better than going on about benchmarks and MCAS and the sucky weather! Anyway, after hearing this story I saw we were close to being the last ones to leave. I think it is always best policy to NEVER be the last ones to leave unless it's someone you are extremely close to, or a member of your family.

I jumped up and told dear hubby it was time to go. We went and made the farewell and thank you rounds. At one point we were told to grab a bag of left over BBQ, I being a vegetarian passed and I knew Steve would pass because he rarely takes leftovers. What I didn't expect to hear was "Nah, I don't need to take any leftovers, but I'll take a few beers for the road."

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?" is what my inside voice said. I tried to throw him a horrified look but he was not looking in my direction, he was finishing his beer. I asked for the keys several times as he was getting his to go 6-pack together.

I mean, this is probably the third town party we have been invited to and I, at that point thought, "well, they were really nice to have invited us, and it was fun while it lasted..."

So, as I sit here across from him, bathed in light, head turned to the ceiling as if he is sunning himself on the beach, each time the apnea kicks in and the breathing stops I think, "should I wake him?" He eventually wakes himself with the loud snort, snorkel and eventual jolt associated with drinking induced apnea. I keep assuming he will head down to bed, but when I suggest it he mumbles something about why does he have to go to bed, "ashshshshsahsahshash."

I plug away at my blog and as I near the end he wakes up, heads to the kitchen, comes out and looks at me surprised "When did you move up here?"

Yep, that's the man I choose to be my life partner. The father of my children and the man who may have just sealed our fate when it comes to being invited to anymore birthday parties, or parties of any kind in this town.

It was fun while it lasted. Now to Google CPAP machines and see just how sexy I can really make him look.

Disclaimer: I am totally attracted to and in love with my husband. I know he is a good man who doesn't have the highest tolerance for alcohol. I also know he deserves to let his hair down occasionally. I also know that he is used to hanging around with rugby gang and that it might take some getting used going to parties that don't involve drinking out of a cleat, but rather having a few beers with preschool parents that tell stories about their polyamorous cohousing.

Here' s hoping for second chances.















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