Last night, I flew out to Indiana for a business trip. My first adventure on a propeller plane, it served to remind me why I am a firm believer in the concept that had God wanted me to fly, I’d have been born with wings. The work stuff went extremely well, and not only do I get to go home a night early, but I am actually writing this entry from the airport. As a goof I figured I’d power up my laptop and see if they had a wireless network. Sure enough, “Fort Wayne Airport” appeared in the list of available networks. One registration page, promising not to do anything evil, and I’m in. The real paradox is that I have a ton of homework I should be doing right now, but I am oddly compelled to utilize this Internet access simply because I have it. Pavlov would be proud, I just feel wrong not using an Internet connection in a strange place. As I sit here in the bar, drinking myself to the point where turbulence becomes bearable, I figured I’d clue everyone in to the differences between Meg’s business trips and mine.
One of the differences in living with Meg versus living alone is what happens when one of us isn’t home. Tonight, I’ll get home to find the house almost exactly as I had left it. The changes will likely be due to Meg cleaning or straightening up something. The house will linger with the aroma of an overpriced Yankee candle. Ahh, home… just three white-knuckled hours away.
Meg also went away on business last week. Sunday night found me alone, superficially enjoying the place to myself while harboring an unacknowledged loneliness. However, Meg’s arrival was not met with the same olfactory overload my own return will likely experience. Rather, Meg arrived home to the proverbial bull in a china shop. The house had been extremely hot last week, so I spent a night on the couch on the less brutal second floor. Rather than the typical coffee table magazine, Meg found an alarm clock, remnants of a bowl of cereal, a blanket, and a pillow (and absolutely no stuffed bears, no matter what Meg would have you think).
The rest of the house didn’t fare much better. The kitchen, while clean, was cluttered with drying tupperware, ready for next morning’s preparation of my lunch feast (I’m up to eating 5 meals a day at work). I didn’t think it was possible, but there were actually more scattered water glasses than days Meg was gone; the mathematics of how this happened are mind-boggling.
The moral of this story is three-fold. The first is to give credit to Meg for putting up with my lazy ass. To the women readers, which likely includes a number of soon to be married knotties (and again, I shall comment on you folk very soon), have patience. We don’t mean to be this difficult to live with. To all the single guys out there, ranging from soon to be married to taking his sweet ass time getting engaged… well, you’ll have to e-mail me to find out how I get away with all this.
Lovely, just found out my flight is delayed 40 minutes. Looks like the forecast calls for thunderstorms between Indiana and my arrival in Pittsburgh as well. Time to switch from beer to something stronger…