Age and Loneliness

On Friday night we usually go to the local pub to meet up with some of Rich's work buddies, a good, funny group of guys who I enjoy talking and verbally sparring with. Witty jibes fly around and hijinks ensue. There is always too much beer, loud talking and general TGIF silliness.

This time at the pub a rock band played. (Frequently they will have trad jazz bands, which don't get me wrong, they are musically amazing, but it's music from the 40's and so on, so it draws a definitely older skewing crowd. This tends to put a little damper on our evenings of letting off steam, as I, for one, feel like I have to behave a bit better when Oma and Opa are in the house. I am not a huge fan of jazz, though like I have said, they are stunningly talented and so I can appreciate it for that.)
The band that played on Friday reminded me of that band in the Commitments, remember that movie, where this normal looking guy suddenly just BELTS out songs in a voice that has to be heard to be believed? Yeah, they were like that. He could sing anything, even Soundgarden and hairbands, blues, whatever, he could sing it. He sang one song (I can't remember which one right now) that was a quintessential 80's head banger song. And I, with this hair, and a few beers in me, proceeded to head bang.

Which was my first mistake. Because my neck is now fucked up and I can hardly move it. Ironically, even as I was doing it, throwing my hair around and having a high old time, I told someone that I was gonna regret this later, as I have about a three bang limit before my neck remembers the hurt for days. And so my premonition came true. Ow. Getting old sucks.

Rich left to go to the States today. And I am quietly freaking. He used to travel alot for work, to the point where I got used to him being gone (and that did NOT do good things for our marriage, let me tell you, and we are STILL working on being a couple and being together all the time. We both became way too independent over 10 years of separateness.). Anyhow, I think we might have turned that corner of coupledom, because it feels WIERD being here alone. I'm restless and a bit antsy. So I started cleaning. So far I've:

• cleaned his bathroom (and decided that our "self bathroom management" routine is gonna stop, because that boy obviously does NOT clean his bathroom), (ew),(and in Todays' Dumbass Move I accidentally turned on the shower while standing in it cleaning it, thus soaking myself with cold water and getting a short sharp reminder of what a dork I actually am),
  

• reorganised the linen closet,

• reorganized the "junk room" (a never used sauna in the flat),

• cleaned my room and reorganized my socks, (a big job, I have lots, which is strange for someone who dislikes socks),

• scrubbed the kitchen, and the trashcan and took out the garbage (!!!)(I generally don't do garbage)(ever),
  

• rekitted the bed (using linens that he has professed a dislike for but that I love, so I can use them while he's gone nyah nyah)(now the bed's all black sheets and red and black duvet and with leopard spotted pillows, grrr...),

• cleaned my bathroom,
  

• done 5 loads of laundry,

all while dancing to my favorite stuff on the iPod cranked to ear splitting levels, something I can't do while he's here because he is not that fond of my music. (He likes "calm" music, I like ass kickin' music.)

Thank GOD I've planned the trip to London while he's gone. And I've also been invited to go to the company hytte (cabin in the woods) for a couple of nights, to do the traditional Norwegian "get out of town and into mountainous nature" thing. I've never done it, always wanted to, even though the hytte doesn't have running water and has an "incinerator toilet". I have no idea what an incinerator toilet is, but I am envisioning ass-burning flames shooting up from it as it nukes whatever you might deposit therein. Like you are crapping into the mouth of hell......
Anyhow, the plan is to cross country ski in easy stages (which is good, as guess who has also never skied??) sit in the sun and eat oranges and drink hot chocolate (oranges being an Easter thing, I'm told, and hot chocolate being, well, hot chocolate). In the evenings you light a fire, read, drink and chat. I think we have margaritas and cosmos in our future. (Remind self to get Cointreau at duty free.) Sounds lovely, doesn't it?

I don't know that I could be here in this flat for two weeks and be this restless. I'm so glad I have things planned. I seriously see myself rearranging all the furniture, bare handed, if I don't have things to occupy me. I've done it before, you know.

I used to be really good at being alone. Hmm.