Uggggh.  I hate it when Brock goes out of town.

I so need to be less co-dependent.  I can handle things myself.  I actually enjoyed watching TV alone last night, just me and the puppy-dawg.  However, when I tried to call Brock to talk to him before I went to sleep… he didn’t answer.  And didn’t answer, and didn’t answer.  I called, um, 12 times.  Yeah.  I had all of these fantasies about him being caught in some gunfire, being killed, and me not finding out until the next day.  (In Nebraska!  Sure!)

Why do we get so crazy when we’re so sure something has gone wrong?  Why did I lie awake until 12:30, trying to make myself forget that he hadn’t answered his phone?  Yeah, I need to just sit back and enjoy the ‘me’ time, cause it is pretty rare.

Tonight, I’m going out with my Irish friends.  We’re going to an Irish pub, and we’re going to celebrate St. Patrick’s day in style.  I think I’m gonna spend the night with them instead of driving, so I”ll have to wake up super duper early and come home to let the doggie out.  I’m really excited.

I also want to clean the house.  Have you noticed that this is a trend?  Brock goes out of town, I want to clean the house.  It never happens when he’s at home, and we need it SO BADLY.  So that will be my Tuesday project. 

Brock gets home late Tuesday night.  I call it Wednesday.  11:45pm?  That’s Wednesday.