Let Freedom Ring! (*burp*)

One week ago I drove my husband and my dog to Orlando, put them on a plane to Frankfurt, shed a tear, blew a kiss, and drove away. It was difficult to say goodbye as I knew we were experiencing our last few moments together in Florida. So it was not without sadness that I pulled on to I-4 and made my way back towards Tampa.

About twenty minutes down the road the sadness dissipated and a weird sense of giddiness came over me as I realized, HOT DAMN! I AM FREE!!! Well, for a few weeks anyway.

Oh don't get me wrong, I love Mitch Man. But sometimes he can be a tad bit overbearing. He likes to ask condescending questions, like, "What did you do today?" and "What's for dinner?" or "Do you know where the kids are?" And I always feel all this pressure. Like because I'm his housewench, I should have all the answers he wants to hear. Such as, I worked out for three hours and balanced our budget and cleaned the entire house and picked up all the dog poop in the back yard and made healthy fish with veggies for dinner and the kids are either a) swimming laps training for a triathlon, or b) in their rooms doing their homework. But in reality I never have any of the "right" answers and so I always feel this kind of strain that makes me want to hang my head in shame. Or throw a wet sponge at him.

So I was making my way home towards Tampa and I realized, with my best ghetto attitude, "Hell, I don't have no man to answer to tonight...I can eat whatever I damn well want for dinner! Hmmph!"  And I spent the next hour and fifteen minutes deliberating between KFC, Steak and Shake, or Taco Bell. The Colonel won, and I picked up a bucket of chicken with mashed potatoes, biscuits, gravy, and Lord Almighty Sweet Tea.

Ever since then I have been living in this lazy, gluttonous, disgusting, paralyzing state of deadly sin. The kids have had no bedtime. I don't think Casey has brushed his teeth once. I have read four books. I have had no exercise. We have eaten from Mickey D's four times. And I even bought Nutella. And to be perfectly honest, I feel like complete and total crapola.

Mitch Man called this morning and woke me up. I jumped out of bed to answer the phone and got it on the fourth ring.

"Ello?" I slurred in my sleepy haze.
"Did I wake you?" he asked.
"No," I lied.
"Isn't it like 10am there?" he asked.
"No," I lied again.
There was a pregnant pause and then he asked, "So what are you going to do today?"
I didn't have a wet sponge. But this was definitely a wake-up call.

Spin class tomorrow at 8:15. And I'm bringing Georgia with me, after we eat our oatmeal and fresh fruit. Then I need to tackle the long To-Do list and remove the clothes from the washing machine that I started three days ago, if they aren't completely saturated with mildew stank. My week of "FREEDOM" is officially over. And Amen to that.