It’s been really easy to get used to DrBob being around all the time, and therefore really easy to forget that he has to leave again at some point. That point is tomorrow morning, and the realization of this came at me so suddenly today that I could swear I heard it make a whooshing noise as it swooped down on me. I’ll be on my own again, for two weeks. “Ten days,” he says. “Two sets of Monday-through-Friday getting up and launching kids and supervising homework and shouting ‘turn off the damn TV!’ and making grilled cheese sandwiches and hot dogs and driving them to sports practices, all by myself – that’s two weeks,” say I. Weekends don’t count.
Except, when it is actually the weekend, and he’s not here, it turns out that weekends do count. Imagine that.
Song du jour of the day: If You Leave, by the Pet Shop Boys.