Life without Eric

So, Eric and I are under the impression that we, as adults, can each leave one another at home by themselves. This seems logical enough, yet somehow every time he is away I manage to do something completely ridiculous that I am convinced would not have happened if he were home.



So, last Thursday. I get home from work, do some Wii Fit (a new addiction of mine), make dinner and watch some Sex and the City cause Eric isn't home to groan about how annoying the stars of that show are. Finally, I drag my ass off the couch and start cleaning for the company I will be having this weekend. Near the end of my cracked-out tirade through the house, on the floor, and in every nook and cranny, I end up at the trash can/compost/recycling bins that take up a huge corner of the kitchen/dining room.

Instead of doing what I would normally do -- which is set all three bags outside the kitchen door onto the porch that doesn't belong to us and casually look around to make sure no one saw me do it -- I decide that I will be a better person and take the bags down the crooked stairs and around the dark corners to their proper bins. Because it is dark outside, I grab the small grey flashlight on the windowsill and place it in between my teeth (yes, that is how classy I am). I successfully make it down the stairs and put two of the bags into their respective homes...then, the incident happens. As I ungracefully toss the trash bag into the extra-large container, I hit my mouth, and the flashlight falls out, and into the bin (of course).

I stand there for one second and without really thinking, I throw the trash bin on its side and dive into it. Now, as I write this I am completely baffled at why this was my reaction. I chose to crawl inside a plastic container that holds trash to retrieve a tiny (and cheap) flashlight. A minute later, I back out, wipe off my knees and smile widely. Then I realize what just happened. As fast as I can, I put the receptacle back in its proper place and run upstairs to detox my skin.

Once I make it through the shower and change my clothes, I can't help but wonder what made me act the way I did...just because I'm not used to being alone doesn't give me the right to stop thinking and rummage around trash bins.

The moral of the story: Life without Eric is weird.

The bright side: From now on, instead of saying "As hard as finding a needle in a haystack," I am going to say "As hard as finding a small flashlight in a trash bin."