My guys have been gone for 17 days. SEVENTEEN. DAYS. If you've been reading this blog for a while, you may know that we take a long trip to visit our family in Virginia each summer, usually for 2-3 weeks. This year, with my new job, I have no vacation time available for such a luxurious trip. Since this is usually the only time of year we see that side of the family, it was very important that the guys still go on the trip.
So I've been alone for 17 days.
They'll be home tomorrow, THANK GOD, because 1. I am bored. 2. I miss them. 3. I'm pretty sure the cat's plot to kill me is nearly complete.
I've kept myself busy and have actually had some very enjoyable times while they've been gone. I've been out with my work friends and a few other friends I don't get to see very often, which has been nice. i've gotten to know several new places in and around Birmingham. I certainly have not minded sleeping as late as I'd like on the weekends. I've made foods the guys don't like for my dinners.
My routine, however, is practically non-existent. More than once, I've woken up with dark rings under my eyes because I forgot to take off my makeup the night before. That's something I always do while Marcus brushes his teeth, right before we go to bed. I've done laundry exactly four times since they've been gone. The loads are tiny when they're just for one person. I miss matching Dean's tiny socks.
Today, my last day without them, will consist of cooking, soaking up a few more hours of horrible television (Totally 80's on VH1, anyone?), and sleeping all over the entire bed.
I can't wait for them to be home.