Last week my hubby was out of town seeing his family, then on a golf vacation, poor baby. So, that meant that the dog and I were on our for most of last week.
The week started out pretty great. I blew through several books-The Dunderheads Behind Bars, Showoff, the Phantom of the Post Office, Where Things Come Back, and then I started on Why We Broke Up. Now I had set quite a rigorous reading schedule for myself. I was hoping to blow through two other books before the end of the weekend, but I found that I just couldn't read anymore. GASP! Can it be?
Yes, after four days of coming home from work, walking the dog, and reading for several hours, I wanted to talk to someone, other than Lucy of course. Before I was married, I read constantly, and I often feel really bad about how little reading I do now. And how little cooking, and how little guitar practicing, and how little everything else when I only had to worry about taking care of myself kinda stuff.
But, I've moved on. I no longer only think about me, but a guy and a dog too. So, yeah it was straight up weird being the only person in the house, and I ended up missing my hubby a lot more than I thought I would. I mean, I'm an independent woman, I don't need him around, but life is sure better when he's there.
So, after four days of uninterrupted reading, I'm ready for some interruptions. Just goes to show that you can have too much of a good thing.