I did NOT enjoy being home alone. I didn’t sleep well. I wandered the house, unshowered and uninspired. I watched a LOT of tv. I ate a whole box of Kraft Mac & Cheese (which is probably not Paleo, but I can’t prove that). By Saturday night, I had to give myself a major pep talk. “You can’t live like this! Pull yourself together! Is this how you’re going to act during the next deployment?! You disgust me!”
I find that I respond well to verbal
in my stream of conscious conversations with myself.
So, I devised a plan of attack for Sunday. I WOULD be productive. My day would start at 9:15 (which is early for me on a weekend) at the gym. From there, I was not to sit on the couch until the laundry was done, I had cooked enough Paleo-friendly food to get Z through the week while I was traveling (super wife), and the house was clean.
Sunday rolled around and I was ON IT. An hour at the gym, four Paleo meals cooked and in the fridge, clean laundry, clean house! BAM! Champion of Productivity. AND I showered! Killed it.
So after all of that, I finally sat down on the couch to relax. Then the worst thing happened. I decided I needed something sweet. A little treat. A small reward for being a successful human being on Sunday. We had nothing sweet in the house (curse you, Paleo). So I go to the gas station. And proceeded to get Skittles.
AND a Nerd Rope.
And a Sprite.
I was so ashamed that I didn’t tell Z until a few days later that THAT’S why I was awake at 2:30am complaining that I didn’t feel good. Skittles. Nerd Rope. Beer. Miserable. Oh, and the Sprite. Never again.
He has officially released me from Paleo. It’s for the best, really.