Actually, I avoid lots of things on a daily basis… exercise, eating right, putting away my laundry, loading the dishwasher, unloading the dishwasher, separating laundry, doctor's visits, etc, etc…
But the particular avoidance I’m speaking of goes beyond basic housework and healthcare. This dives into the deep end of my personal swimming pool.
Two weeks ago, I was lamenting that my motorcycle club was having its spring national meeting some 1000 miles away and I can’t get away long enough to ride there and back. Then P.Pie had a brilliant idea - Why didn’t I fly?
Of course! It was sheer brilliance! I could work all day Friday, catch the early evening flight out, party like a rock star, and catch the midday flight home on Sunday! Brilliance!
And it appeared to be a completely altruistic move on P.Pie’s part. Emphasis on the appeared part.
A few days later – after I’d bought my airline ticket – she casually mentioned that since I was going to be out of town anyway, she’d like to go to
In the past, I said that I am not particularly comfortable with her and The Squeaker traveling alone. It’s completely stupid, but if something were to happen to them…well, saying I’d be devastated would be an understatement.
But, since she’d green stamped my juvenile delinquency weekend, how could I say no?
So off the two of them went, to spend a week in sunny SoCal. A week. All I got was a weekend… two days, really.
Of course I returned Sunday from my biker romp to an empty house. Com.Plete.Ly. Emp.Ty.
No P.Pie, no Squeaker. No one to say how much they missed me; no one with a diaper to change; nothing. And they don’t get home until Wednesday.
Every time I think I know how much I love the two of them, stuff like this happens to show me that I can’t even begin to fathom the depths of my feelings for them both.