For the first time since we bought our house nearly four years ago, Amy is embarking on a road trip with our two boys, leaving me alone with the dogs. Mom and the boys leave Sunday morning (Declan has gymnastics on Saturday) and will return home next Friday.
They're going to see Amy's folks, five hours south of us. After nearly 11 months, Amy's dad has yet to meet his second grandson, so that little oversight will be rectified. (The province of Alberta is redneck by obligation, industry, inclination and choice; the further south the deeper the hue, generally. Folks in Lethbridge, with a little practice and a stiff northerly wind, can hawk a lugie across the Montana border -- this indirectly plays into why Papa hasn't yet met Tavish, but incorrigible personal foibles don't need to be discussed right now.) And with both Amy's mom and sister in the same city, there will be no lack of maternal oversight for the boys.
Which brings us back to me.
At home.
Alone.
For a week.
As I see it, there are a number of scenarios that can play out here, and I'm at a loss as to which will coalesce; we'll have to wait and see. The kennel of my domestic confinement has been cracked open for a spell and I'm not yet sure if I'm dog enough to step out, rip around, and piss on a few trees. Here's a brief run-down of some of the options that have occurred to me:
Scenario 1 - Ideal
Amy leaves with the boys and I, being the good husband, have already compiled a list of Things That Desperately Need Doing, but which have been put off interminably because our children sap our energy reserves like the parasitic little spawn they are and it's normally 10 PM most days by the time we've grappled our way back to the level of the previous day's squalor, never mind about making up ground. (Entropy's a bitch.) I tidy, I clean, I rearrange, I discard, I sort for a spring garage sale, I sell ersatz treasure on eBay to pay down our mortgage principal. When all is said and done, I welcome my family home to fresh flowers and a subtly imbued orange-citrus scent that's unmistakably (and almost unrecognizably) clean. Amy, grateful, drops the boys off at my mother's house and returns to spend the rest of the weekend making sweet, sweet love.
I really do have that list started. One of the first items reads: "Chip six inches of dog shit off back patio."
Scenario 2 - Regression
I wave goodbye to my departing family as they pull out of the driveway Sunday morning. As soon as the tail lights disappear around the snow cobbled corner I scurry to the basement and re-install Diablo 2 on the computer. I violently quash the small voice in the back of my head that reminds me how I once barely survived for upwards of two months on little more than three or four hours of sleep per night and the occasional box of Kraft Dinner because of this vile game. Shall I play a necromancer? A druid? A barbarian? Who cares!! Hygiene be damned!
Scenario 3 - Solitude
Strolling through the preternatural quiet of the house Sunday morning after departure, I glance at the stack of 'to-read' books on my night stand in the bedroom. Ah, I say quietly, I will immerse myself in The Whale and rattle through the rest of the pile after the inevitable, tragic end of the good ship Pequod and her perfervid captain. Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency has been waiting a good long while. Perhaps a re-read of a favourite Guy Kay novel. (That's a redundant phrase.) Peruse my Shakespeare's Complete Works, reading aloud whilst gesticulating wildly in the living room. I declaim, "Out! Out, damned spot!" noting, wryly, how appropriate that phrase in my abode, not feeling quite as mad as Lady MacBeth. A week's worth of evenings are spent in the Comfy Chair, neat wee dram to hand, ravenously consuming hundreds of pages of literature.
Scenario 4 - Torpor
When not at work, I will forego regular meals and ensconce myself in front of the computer, mindlessly surfing the stultifying mediocrity of the internet -- a blind man panning for gold with a flour sieve. It is my slot machine, and my attention span its cornucopia of quarters. There will be no reason for me to dress in ought but my underwear; I will fart and scratch unapologetically. When hunger looms, there will be a nearby brick of cheese and a large bottle of Mountain Dew to sate my indiscriminate esurience.
Scenario 5 - Pressure
One thought returns to my head after a long absence. I have a week to live it up as a bachelor - best not to waste it. All leftovers and perishables are purged from the fridge to make space for beer. I share the knowledge of a free house with a myriad of married friends. They all make excuses with their wives to get out for most evenings. We watch manly movies, drink to excess and grind countless calories of junk food into the funkified carpet of the living room. Nobody fesses up to having ordered "Destiny Juggernauts" come dance for us, but there's plenty left over for a big tip after we pass the hat for the poor girl. On Thursday - before my family returns - I have intentions to clean everything up as if nothing happened, but instead languish, watching the entire Star Wars canon accompanied by a huge bag of Cheetos. The ensuing hell I'll catch will be a small price to pay.
(This may become the reality. We had a retirement lunch at work on Thursday for a man who served 24 years. They ordered in Chinese and my fortune cookie was blessed with two axioms, both of which read the same: "Investigate new possibilities with friends. Now is the time!")
Scenario 6 - Culinary
The weekend starts with my anonymous phone call to a Korean restaurant as I plumb the depths of my depravity. Then dig deeper. I offer a low-ball price and free delivery. No questions asked.
Scenario 7 - Reality
The weekend ends up being some predictable combination of 1, 2, and 3. Perhaps a smattering of 5 (without Destiny). Regardless, the house will be way cleaner when Amy gets home and I will have gotten drunk at least once. It'll probably involve some Cheetos.
I still intend to make sweet, sweet love to my wife.
What a wonderful treat, Simon. I'm sure you'll miss Amy and the kids and be ready for them to return after nearly a week away. But to have so many options spread before you must have you feeling gleefull.
However...avoid the Diablo. That thing is like herion to we poor dweebs. I'd like to have some interesting stories for you to blog about when this experience is over. I'll take tales of chipped dog crap. I'll smile over stories of Cheetofied Star Wars. I'll nod my head happily for any time you spend with your long-neglected books. However, if all you have to report after this week is a list of magical items aquired...I'll feel a bit gyped.
Posted by: Moksha Gren | Friday, 26 January 2007 at 08:20 AM
I agree with Moksha. Avoid Diablo. Go for all those other things that'll make for some good stories at the other end of the exercise. Two wrongs may not make a right but they do make a good excuse, and four or five wrongs taken all together make a good tale.
After a week's magnificent solitude in which to indulge your noblest and meanest sides you should be able to say (like Barry Back after a NY Ranger's loss), "We only have one person to blame, and that's each other."
Posted by: rna | Friday, 26 January 2007 at 08:56 AM
You are always so much fun to read and I wish I could get over here more frequently. LOL about the Alberta connection ... that's where David hails from but Calgary itself although there is a cattle ranch in his ancestry.
Enjoy the blessed solitude; drop the guilt on the way to the refrigerator to pull out a cold beer and have fun with your books, computer games, male bonding ... everything except that dancing chick.
You write so well, Simon. When do we introduce your fine lads to my two granddaughters, eh?!
Posted by: the Mater | Friday, 26 January 2007 at 11:06 AM
Fire me an email if you plan on rolling up some Diablo2... I'm in.
Posted by: vinny | Friday, 26 January 2007 at 12:26 PM
Enjoy your week. I honestly do not know what I would do with myself for an entire week withough my wee ones. Well..I'd eat out a lot, that's for sure.
Hey..did you get your haggis yesterday?
Posted by: TerriTorial | Friday, 26 January 2007 at 12:26 PM
Hi, I'm Shitty Crapchipper. No, that's no good. Crappy Shitchipperstien? Nevermind.
Burns Night was Jan 25, yes? That's what my calendar says. So, I'm with TerriTorial -- did you get haggis? What else did you do?
Please don't sit and play a video game all week. As others have said before me, that would be a shameful waste of a good bloggers' time.
My wife left for a week in 2004, and I repainted the kitchen and the entryway as a surprise. Trust me, my points for that one have not run out yet (I made a "while you were out" video while working -- I'll have to post it sometime).
It still comes up in conversations. Not saying that should be your motivation for completing a home project, of course, but she'll love you for it.
Plus, have a lot of fun, too.
Posted by: Mark | Friday, 26 January 2007 at 03:58 PM
Mark and Territorial - Allow me to field your question to Simon since I have already been corrected on this issue. Despite Simon's insistance that Burn's Night was exactly one month after Christmas. What the Simian really meant was that it was on the weekend closest to exactly one month after Christmas. So, in truth, he is wearing his kilt and eating his haggis tonight (Friday) and not last night as we diligent Simon-watchers understood.
Posted by: Moksha Gren | Friday, 26 January 2007 at 04:40 PM
Sheesh, man. You've certainly given this a lot of thought!
I'm picturing you (at least as mad as Lady MacBeth) acting out in your underwear with a Cheetos moustache in the livingroom and the dogs acting the parts of the audience, wide-eyed on the couch.
I don't know if this will save you any cash or not but I'll do the "Destiny" gig for mere airfare... I'll make good on your fortune cookie, Friend. Now. ;-)
You did tell Amy your plans for her on her return, right? Gotta give a girl good reason to return...
Posted by: Linda | Friday, 26 January 2007 at 05:04 PM
Amy walks in from her trip, Tavish on her hip, Dex scrambling between her and the door jamb to get to his daddy.
"What the hell did you do?" she asks, looking at the busts of both dogs juxtaposed on the living room wall.
"Oh, not much, Aim. But the Korean restaurant is running a special on khal bi right now."
Simon doesn't look up as he fiddles with a setting on his new Sony Alpha DSLR-A100. "The dogs of war don't capitulate," he says.
"What?"
"Just kidding, Aim. I started chipping the dog shit, and then something snapped inside my brain. Oh, and the Korean restaurant is running a special on khal bi right now."
"I got some long, self-timer exposures of myself chipping the dog shit from the back patio. The slight blurring of my arms conveys a sense of motion."
Amy stares at Simon, mouth agape.
Dex rubs his eyes and then climbs onto the couch to rest his head on Simon's lap. "Hi, Daddy."
"Hi, son. You seem somnolent."
Amy sees a 20x30 poster of a barenaked woman on the wall. She points. "Si, what the hell is that?"
"That's Destiny Juggernauts. This new camera produces amazingly crisp images, all the way up to poster size."
"I'm gonna juggle your naughts in a minute."
"Please, Aim, not in front of the spawn. We can get to that later." He starts humming the chorus to "Rumpshaker."
Amy walks over, Tavish still on one hip, and deftly lifts Dex with her other arm. "We're going to Tim Horton's, and when I get back, I expect that camera to be boxed up, the dogs' heads and that poster off the wall, and you out there with your chisel or whatever it takes to get that dog shit off the porch."
She steps outside, stops, and reaches back with her right foot to pull the door shut.
Simon yells, "I'll have a caramel butter hot smoothee and an apple fritter! Thanks!"
The car peels out of the driveway.
Simon ponders the moment. Just enough time to fire up Diablo II and cast a spell on that pesky Paladin.
Posted by: Mark | Saturday, 27 January 2007 at 01:35 AM
Yeah, so, I didn't quite go back and remove Simon's first mention of the Korean restaurant. That should be gone. Use the preview button much?
Posted by: Mark | Saturday, 27 January 2007 at 01:40 AM
Linda: I don't think you have the proper sized girls to play someone named "Destiny Juggernauts"...
Si: For all that is good in the world...scrape that shit off the deck. Maybe make a game of it while you're drunk!
Posted by: JuJuBee | Saturday, 27 January 2007 at 06:50 AM
Mark said: "Just enough time to fire up Diable II and cast a spell on that pesky Paladin."
Oh sure, everyone always disses the paladins until someone needs thorns or an aura protection. ;)
To echo what some have said: stay away from the Diable; you'll regret it in the end.
And to echo what others have said: If you ignore all such good advice...I'm in!
-Alec
Posted by: Alec Lynch | Saturday, 27 January 2007 at 10:29 AM
Mark, stand up and take a bow. That was your best "post" ever!!! I'm totally impressed. But according to JuJu, not "impressive". Dammit child, must you always be keeping your mother in line? And it's a full time job, isn't it??? lol
And Mark, I like both restaurant references, leave it be.
Posted by: Linda | Saturday, 27 January 2007 at 12:57 PM
Alec - I have to admit, I only knew of paladins because I looked up the game's characters while writing this. So, nothing personal against them. (but I've heard they're pesky) ;)
Linda - It was fun.
Posted by: Mark | Saturday, 27 January 2007 at 02:45 PM
Wow, I'm thinking that in this little window of time here, unsupervised, with Simon all haggissed-up and Amy packing up the troops, we can have a hella good time here at the Fraser expense, whatd'ya say, commrades? Who's joining me? Let's say we start a betting pool, laying odds on how the Simian spends his week? Just for fun of course. ;-)
Posted by: Linda | Saturday, 27 January 2007 at 04:51 PM
Well, you guys are no fun and I'm going to get in trouble for being the lone instigator here, thank you very much. And I suppose you see that its after 10pm EST; Amy has been gone all day, Simon is Home Alone and we've not heard a thing from him. Now don't you wish you would have laid a hefty bet on Diablo???
*crossing fingers and hoping it's NOT Destiny who's stolen our Simian...*
Posted by: Linda | Sunday, 28 January 2007 at 08:10 PM
Maybe the dog shit is taking longer than we expected...
Posted by: Moksha Gren | Monday, 29 January 2007 at 07:34 AM
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