Tuesay: Please, really, stop whining Matilda. Go out, be Young Single and go out.
Wednesday: No, really, stop whining Matilda. Clean kitchen. Have hour-long phone conversation on speakerphone as he drunkenly watches American Idol on East Coast time. Conversation goes like this:
"And then that guy, that dog guy..."
"That guy who always says, 'Dawwwg...'"
"He's dancing with... that ditzy lady!"
"And that English guy!"
"He just pinched her! And the guy finalist!"
"He looks weird! And that singer..."
"Who sings that song about wings!"
"Bette Midler? Wind Beneath My Wings?"
"Yeah! She's awful!"
Go to bed at 12. Not because anything is keeping you up. But because that giant bed all empty kind of sucks.
Thursday: Fuck this shit. Drink wine (which I mistakenly typed as 'whine') for dinner.
Friday: go out. Somewhere. Anywhere.
Saturday: Clean house like a demon so spouse thinks I ALWAYS LIVE THIS WAY. Pick him hup at 9. Make him swear in blood to never be gone this long again.