First Weekend Apart

Four months in and still surrounded by marital bliss, my new husband and I must be apart overnight for this first time. To make matters more pout-inducing, my husband’s trip will consist of not only one night, but two – he will be spending a whole weekend back home helping his father. This personal feature article will explore my actions, feelings and experiences during the first weekend apart from my husband.

When the time came for my husband to leave, I was a little anxious and on the verge of tears, knowing how much I was going to miss him over the weekend. It reminded me of all the times we had to say good-bye when we were younger and I had chosen to go to school two-hundred kilometres away from him and my hometown. Priding myself on being a strong woman, I held back the tears and was back to my normal self a few minutes after he pulled out of the driveway.

I managed to entertain myself (and the cat) for the remainder of the evening. We caught up on Boardwalk Empire and I wasn’t too worried about getting bored on Saturday with all of the homework and housework I had planned. After staying up a bit too late, an hour past when my husband had texted me “good-night”, the cat and I crawled into a bed that felt much too big. So big, in fact, that I had to put a few pillows on my husband’s side of the bed to make it feel… right. I then read Jane Austin’s Pride and Prejudice until I started dreaming of petticoats and grand estates, with the book still in my hand.

I didn’t sleep well that night but I did get to sleep in a little bit, that was, until I awoke to the cat licking my eyelids and demanding she be fed the first in a series of breakfasts – why did I let her sleep with me? I spent the rest of Saturday morning enjoying my alone time.

Tori on Bed
So did she

By the time the late afternoon rolled around and I had completed most of my homework, I began to notice that I wasn’t doing the things that my husband and I normally do together on the weekend. Luckily by this time, he wasn’t too busy and we were able to have a bit of a sporadic text message conversation. I entertained myself for the remainder of the evening catching up on all the housework I had fallen behind on since school started a few weeks ago and trying on a bunch of dresses and shoes, in a way that I imagine would make for a pretty awesome montage, to plan my outfits for the coming school week; 6:30 am really doesn’t agree with me.

That evening, while I was settling into a glass of wine and a new episode of Saturday Night Live, I got up to use the bathroom and turned on the light just in time to see the King of all spiders dash across the wall! I grabbed the closest weapon of mass spider destruction, which happened to be a mostly full Kleenex box, took a swing and missed as it skittered behind the space-maximizing over-the-toilet shelf. Freaked out, I dropped the Kleenex box, threw my arms up in the air and ran on the tips of my toes until I hit the wall on the complete other side of the apartment. I then collected myself, put my flip-flops on – because that’s what you do – and prepared for spider war. I snuck past the spider, trying to keep my arms as close to my body as possible, for some reason, and got the fly-swatter from the non-tactical bathroom closet. I then got into position, spotted the ill-fated spider in the narrow space between the shelf and the wall and took a vicious stab at it. Sensing its impending doom, the spider ran at me. That is when I made the fatal blow. Like a seasoned warrior, I confirmed the kill and gave my worthy opponent a dignified sea burial (ok, I flushed it down the toilet). I then returned to the couch, tucked my feet up inside my blanket, because SPIDERS, and enjoyed the rest of Saturday Night Live.

I slept a little better the second night, though I still missed feeling my husband’s body heat next to me, and not learning my lesson, I awoke to the cat meowing loudly from atop my dresser, a place where the little rascal is fully aware she is not allowed to go. I got out of bed feeling happy and excited, knowing that my cute husband was coming home at the end of the day.

She knows

I passed the morning cleaning my washing machine and doing the rest of the chores on my to-do list. I then watched both of the terrible movies that the women’s TV channel plays on Sunday afternoons, accidently had a nap and missed the end of the second one. When I awoke to a cat enjoying some unsolicited cuddles and a numb arm and hand, I made some tea that my husband had recently told me we were out of.

Now it’s getting dark and I sit here, sipping my tea, watching a spoiled cat sleep on my writing notes and waiting for my husband to return home safely. I know that absence makes the heart grow founder and that we will sleep in each others’ arms tonight. He will ask what I did this weekend and I will calmly reply, “oh nothing much.”