It happens every year around this time: Suzanne’s Champagne Garden Club gals head off to the mountains, where they hunker down in a cabin for a long weekend of not gardening. No one knows what goes on there, but there are plenty of hints for me to add up. I can say for a fact that when Suzanne left, her car was filled with gifts, embroidery gear, books, magazines, salty snacks, sweet snacks, cheesy snacks, and numerous bottles of wine and champagne. There is no electricity at the cabin, so they must keep themselves entertained, which they have no problem doing. The gardening women have been pals for around three decades now, so they talk and laugh and never tire of each other. Fun will be had by all. And then Sunday afternoon, they will trickle out of the cabin and into their vehicles for the drive back to their regular lives. No outsiders will be the wiser about what really went on at the cabin. They will then see each other at their rotating monthly Champagne Garden Club meetings, until next year’s cabin festivities.
So from now until Sunday afternoon, I am on my own. Well, Skitter’s here with me, but she can’t seriously get in the way of me causing whatever havoc I might want to conjure up. I always wonder what I can do with my annual 3-day freedom pass when Suzanne is away, but as I get older, I am finding I’ve already done so much of whatever I’ve wanted to do—especially when it comes to the trouble I’ve wanted to cause. There’s just not much I haven’t already done. And of the things I haven’t done, there aren’t many that I wouldn’t rather do with Suzanne along for the ride with me.
These days, I rather enjoy being alone when I’m faced with the opportunity. I’m rarely bored, and I know I’m not a boring person. But I will likely hang around the house most of the weekend and do my usual weekend-y things. I’m sure I’ll read more than I do when Suzanne’s around. Suzanne’s not a bigly fan of twangy music, so I’m certain that this weekend I will guiltlessly crank up more of the twangy music I normally don’t listen to around the house when Suzanne’s here. And I’ll play all the Springsteen songs that aren’t her faves. I will get to do at least one thing that’s not allowed when Suzanne is around: I can leave the bedroom television on all night long. Having the TV on helps me sleep more soundly than my Trazodone.
Of course, I’ll also chat with Skitter over the next few days more than I already do. (Yes, she’s speaking to me again—having finally forgiven me for taking her to the vet earlier this week.) I have a sneaking suspicion Skitter will find her way into the bed with me during the next few nights, as well. When Suzanne is away at night, I have this bad habit of forgetting to shut the door tightly on the dog crate when I put Skitter to bed. And then Skitter eventually leaps stealthily up on the bed and pokes her nose under the covers. Yup, that’s about as wild as I roll when I’m left to my own devices these days. I am rich with the simplest contentments. I hope you are rich with your own.