That time of year is upon us again.
Bow hunting season, rifle season...
As a child, deer hunting season was always celebrated by the men-folk in our family.
I understand that the men need to go kill it and bring it home.
I get it.
I actually encouage my husband to go on these hunts for a few reasons:
1. No dishes for 3 days - paper products only.
Oh, the freedom.
2. I usually get a bug up my butt and do something fun with the house that I normally don't do when he's here.
I go under the guise that its easier to ask for forgiveness than permission on this one.
I have big plans this year.
3. My husband doesn't take vacations. He does nothing for himself. Really, nothing. He's got a servant's heart, and sees no practical use for sport and golf leagues in his life. This is the only time he takes to recharge his batteries. I totally encourage recharging.
And I take this time he's away to recharge my laundry batteries. :)
But his time away be it one or two nights...always ends up in some sort of issue for me.
And by issue...I mean
something not nice happens.
Let me explain
Four years ago, a bat decided to get into the house.
I felt something ssswwwwooooooopppp over my head when I got up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night.
Flat sheets make great bat catchers.
Betcha you're glad to know this, right?
Not half as pissed as I am to know this to tell it to you.
Three years ago, I sprained my foot.
C. was 3 months old.
I ended up on crutches.
With a baby
still in a baby carrier.
Then...2 years ago...
Ohhh, 2 years ago...
...to be continued.