... is not a life I was meant to live.
Matt is traveling this week. Actually, he's traveled a fair amount recently, and I am having flashbacks of his old job for which he had to travel over half of our first year and a half of marriage. Through these experiences as a semi-bachelorette, I have come up with two advantages of his travel:
1. No cooking. While I do enjoy cooking, it is somewhat liberating to be able to open up a can of chicken soup for dinner and feel absolutely no guilt or remorse. A secondary benefit of this is a dramatically reduced grocery bill.
2. The occasional treats Matt will bring home to me... he went through a phase last year during which he would return home every week with bars of hotel soap. While this was rather endearing for a while, I am now wondering if we will ever use up our seemingly endless supply of Hilton and Marriot toiletries, and I have since encouraged him to consider branching out in the realm of treats. (*Hint hint, Matt*)
As far as the positive aspects of travel, that's it. The cons far outweigh these benefits, as I was reminded several nights ago. On this unfortunate evening, I found myself completely unable to sleep between the hours of 2-4am... so I did what any lonely girl would do. I dialed up my hubby in hopes that he could chat me to sleep. No such luck. He was snoozing away in his plush hotel suite, completely oblivious to the trials of pregnant, weary wife.
I am clearly not made for single life. In fact, I might just have to go turn all of our TVs to ESPN and leave out remnants of chips and salsa to fake myself into believing that Chloe and I are not alone here in this house.
Come Home Matt! (and remember my treat!!)
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