Home Alone And Lost
I spent the entire first half of this blog complaining about the pets I have to care for in Karen’s absence. These are my pets too of course, and I care for them often while Karen’s home anyway, it’s just not as full on. The pets and all the added responsibility are not the real problem representing the “lost” in “Lost without Karen.”
The “lost” part is my mind. I don’t mean this is the bittersweet romantic sense that roses don’t smell as sweet or when I rub chocolate all over my naked body there’s no one to lick it off. I mean it in the sense of when you see a deranged looking man walking around in his bathrobe picking trash from the dumpster and placing it into flower-like arrangements in the empty lot in your neighborhood. That’s the kind of “lost” I am without Karen.
I have a very regimented schedule. This keeps me safe and knowing what to do next. I’m like a pack dog, as long as I know what’s expected of me, I’m normal and happy. I get up at 7:30. I workout from 11 till noon. I work from 1:00 till 7:00 every day, with a strong two cups of coffee at 2:00. I start watching TV at 8:00 and have a cup of tea then, and another (mint) at 8:20. I eat my last meal at 9:20, start reading at 10:40 and go to bed at exactly 11:55.
With Karen gone though, with me being separated from my pack, my schedule goes straight to hell. I look up from whatever ghastly thing I’ve stumbled upon on the internet and see that it’s 9:07 and not only have I failed to have any of my teas, but I forgot to eat breakfast and the shower is still running from the morning and there’s a dead body in my kitchen and the trash is on fire.
I made my milkshake and realized that instead of putting the frozen blueberries back in the freezer I’ve put them on top of the fridge. I put the peanut butter in the freezer and my milkshake in the cabinet. I put the blender in the oven and washed the bananas.
I got to work and realized that instead of bringing my lunch, I brought dish soap and a library book. I must have put my lunch in the book return box.
My laptop and phone and kindle all needed charged and I couldn’t find ANY of the chargers. I left my car keys locked in a desk drawer at work. I can’t remember any of my passwords or WHAT THEY EVEN DO.
Karen called and asked how I was “getting on” and I said I was “getting on like a house on fire.” –That’s a British expression that means doing well but it applied in the literal sense because our house was still on fire because I’d used the fire extinguisher foam as hair gel.
I didn’t know what was wrong, I only knew that my brain wasn’t working right and I couldn’t concentrate. It was like that first week you quit smoking. It was waking up from a gunshot wound to the head.
Eventually I adapted and got back to a semblance of sanity. I became a functional defective at least and, somehow, survived. All I know for sure is that Karen can never, ever, go anywhere ever again.
Be sure to read part 1 Lost Without Karen
Must read – Lost In Spain: A Collection of Humorous Essays by me
The funniest book you’ve never read.