Stan is away for a 3-day stag weekend. I have secretly been looking forward to this event for WEEKS, gleeful at the thought of three whole days of freedom. There will be loads of time to clean the house properly, walk Beastie, read blogs until 3am if I feel like it, bake, eat all the stuff Stan ignores in the supermarket (mmm, salad), starfish in the middle of the bed, sleep until noon…you get the idea. Not exactly Secret Girl Behaviour, just little things I would do if I didn’t have to consider another creature’s habits and comforts.
Well, the house is almost clean, Beastie has enjoyed some walks, and there are gooey delicious oat’n'raisin cookies cooling in the kitchen. And somehow, barely three hours past his usual honey-I’m-home time, three days is beginning to feel like eternity. It seems so weird not to be spending the afternoon poring over cookbooks and rushing to get the floors mopped in time (hello, Lucy). The bed seems so vast and empty I’ve had to move to the couch (Beastie thought it was Christmas). Darn it, I miss that boy!
