One of the downers of being up in Maine senza marito are the lonely nights after the kids are all put in bed and I hang up after Tim's nightly call. While I do have books to read and magazines to peruse, it is not the same as having him there to snuggle with and... all that other stuff.
On the other hand, Tim doesn't care for me to eat snacks in bed, stay up late reading, or get any dishes dirty after he has finished the evening cleanup. "What do you mean, you want to make chocolate glop at 8pm? I don't think that would be a good idea." While he is sleeping peacefully 1000 miles away I can make bruschetta and eat it in bed while reading a smashing romance. I can make my favorite childhood comfort food and leave the dishes in the sink. I can even squirt whipped cream right out of the can into my mouth with no one frowning at me.
Part of me figures as long as the kids are taken care of, the house is clean, and I don't end up weighing 800 pounds by the middle of September it shouldn't matter if I break free a little. After all, I'm certainly not enticed to venture out to enter the $1000 singing contest at the karaoke place, visit the guys on Harleys outside the biker bar, or even indulge in $1 Mexican beer night. The other side of my brain does feel a twinge of guilt when I think of Tim in North Carolina working 12 hour days, coming home to a lonely bowl of cereal for dinner. The situation will right itself in a few weeks and maybe I can convince him to join me in a midnight feast involving chocolate, whipped cream, and two forks.