Feature
May, 13 2008
Home Alone
by Leslie Schelat-McBride
Last week, James and I had our first real time apart since we were married. I'd taken weekend trips away several times, but I was never gone for more than two nights. This time, I went to visit my friends and family in Ohio for six days, and goodness, one would think I left for six months!
I know James is domestically challenged, so I set everything up for him to have as much of a normal week as he could. First, I played good wife and made sure there was more than enough food for James to pack his lunches for work. He had bread, lunchmeat, cheese, pickles, applesauce, protein bars, protein shakes (which I even pre-mixed so all he had to do was pour it out of a pitcher into his bottle). I even offered to make his sandwiches, but he hadn't washed the dishes, so I didn't have Rubbermaids in which to put them.
Next, I made sure the apartment was mostly clean, as I would be gone on Sunday, which is typically cleaning day. I picked everything up, gathered the garbage, cleaned all the glass tables (ugh), bathrooms and made both beds. Pretty much all I left for him to do was put away his clean laundry, do dishes, sweep and take care of the pets - his share of household duties.
Third, I cooked sloppy joes, thawed hot dogs, made burgers and bought frozen pizza. Since I generally refuse to give in to James' desires for mass quantities of Italian food, I even made a double batch of spaghetti. He can barely make grilled cheese, and I wanted to be sure he didn't starve (or eat out) every night while I was gone. I even left a sticky note on the refrigerator with a list of all the things he could easily make for supper.
On Tuesday, I left, confident that James would survive without me.
He survived, but it must have been an interesting week (Which I should have guessed would happen, considering he couldn't even remember when I was returning to Atlanta [Which I also should have guessed would happen, considering he usually has problems remembering where I'm going. For some reason, every time I go to Charlotte, he thinks I'm in Charleston].).
I made the mistake of expecting bliss upon my return, as James accidentally told me his "surprise" - that he'd washed the cat (finally!) on Friday. I figured he must have done great things if he'd even had time to wash Prada. When we came back to the apartment, I saw he'd made the bed after he slept in it, arranged the pillows on the couch, kept the bathroom vanity clean, swept the floors and taken out the garbage. I was impressed, to say the least!
Then, I went into the kitchen.
It wasn't just that James hadn't done dishes. It was that he had now neglected them for so long that the entire counter was covered, in addition to the overflowing sink. And they smelled.
All I'd wanted was a drink, so I took a deep breath and managed to move past the dishes.
I opened the refrigerator, and inside, I saw the spaghetti was gone, the sloppy joes were nearly untouched and six(!) hot dogs were eaten (yet no buns? Hm.). I found a loaf of bread in the fridge, two two-liters of Coke in the crisper drawer, a pitcher of now-chunky protein shake and the burgers and pizza still in the freezer.
In the ensuing conversation, I discovered that, while I am not sure how he ate enough to survive while I was gone, James is in desperate need of a sodium and cholesterol detox. That, and some cooking classes.
In my absence, James ate spaghetti - lots of spaghetti. Then, when it was gone, he found more meat sauce (i.e. sloppy joes) in the refrigerator, so he made more noodles and mixed the two. He only ate this "spaghetti" once, as he thought it tasted funny. Then, he chopped up three hot dogs, placed slices of American cheese on top, sprinkled on some cheddar and placed the concoction in the microwave. He called it "cheese soup." Next, he ate chili. This creation also began with three hot dogs, added an entire can of chili, lots of cheese, chili powder and an abnormal amount of Texas Pete hot sauce.
I didn't need to hear any more - or even begin absorb the fact that the litter box and bird cage were dirty (and they smelled), or that an entire basket of clean laundry was still on the floor of our closet. No, no. This was all I needed to learn two things: One, James in NOT that far removed from his bachelor life. Two, I am turning into my mother.
