>The Sound of Silence

>I thought long and hard before polishing off the second half of the foot-long sub a few hours ago for lunch.  Really, I did.  I also contemplated going for a walk before the heavens opened up to mock me in my fleeting, momentary wave of false self-discipline.  I have viewed more "watch instantly" movies on netflix than an entire college dorm building full of pre-menstrual, weepy girls and I have sat for so long in one spot on the couch I thought I might have developed appendicitis before realizing the corner of my laptop has been digging carelessly into my side for at least two hours now. I've also noticed, on the rare occasion that one of my eyeballs were not glued to the computer screen, that the chipped nail polish on my index finger slightly resembles a killer bunny rabbit. Or Africa.  I am bored, cranky and uninspired.  I mustn't "go out" anywhere, considering our spending needs to be at a stand-still until (if) we ever close on this albatross of a house- but if I subject myself to another evening home alone in my parents house I just might resort to drinking myself into a bored,cranky, uninspired stupor.  What's a girl to do?

I blame this all, graciously, on my husband, of course.  Not only because he is not here to rescue me from self-proclaimed boredom with his embellished, narcissistic banter, poor-taste movie choices, little- kid giggle and sneak attack hugs and headlocks BUT because I would never be experiencing said boredom at all if it weren't for his social influence.  

I was never one that needed human contact in order for whatever activity I was engaging in to constitute as a good time. In the BR(before Rich) period, I would read for hours on end without so much as a glance toward the phone.  I would run to the mall by myself (it takes longer with more people, and who would want to waste their afternoon away in a Jersey mall?)and even eat alone, in a restaurant without the slightest pang of loneliness.  All of that quickly changed upon discovering that my husband doesn't merely like to be in others company, he relishes it. Swallows the entire experience whole, as a matter of fact like a hungry, 20-foot python given only one, dancing white mouse for dinner.  Where's the rest? People I find tear-my-hair-out annoying, Rich finds riveting.  So much so that he'll invite them to dinner.  Or away for the weekend down to shore.  Or to Europe- for several weeks on a back-packing tour through the Swiss Alps.   I always slightly mocked my husband's need to be with other human beings- they're so imperfect, you know-until I found myself adopting aspects of this inconvenient quality.

So, now I'm stuck. An anti-social book-worm I am no more, which means I land right in the bored, cranky and uninspired category if I happen to find myself home alone two nights in a row.  I'm not sure which cross I'd rather bear.