Another Saturday Night

I feel like a broken fucking record.

Sicily, if you are reading this you might want to stop now. There is brief gross adult content that you don't want to have in your mind below. You have been warned.

Today (Saturday. I am transcribing this on Sunday) I ran all over hell's half-acre, to softball practice (twice), to a birthday party, and finally to etiquette class, ending the evening killing time doing lonely loser shit like shopping for tulle for a Halloween costume and filling the Cube with gas. I am writing this entry longhand on Post-it notes on a new gluten-free cupcake book that was slated to be my evening's entertainment from 8-9:30 while I was waiting in the car for The Child to be finished with her thriving social life. For the last etiquette class (a month ago, also on a Saturday night from 8-9:30), I wandered through the aisles of Kroger and Target. #Awesome

And I haven't gone this long without having sex since 1995.

Yes, fixing the circular saw after I cut the cord this week was a pain in the ass. Yes, being solely responsible for every bit of softball (approximately 20 hours a week, unless you include tournaments, which ups the time commitment substantially) sucks. Yes, being the one who does all of the yard work (and all of the work, period) SUCKS. But the worst? No one to complain about it to. No partner in crime to get a drink with while we wait for the kid, or to giggle in the car as we watch awkward middle schoolers learn how to waltz, or to do other stuff in the car in a darker part of the parking lot.

Just me. Party of one.

This is none of anyone's business, I suppose, and I am not posting this for invitations. This is a record for me. I can't stand the sound of my own voice, bitching about this type of thing to friends, but it is infinitely more palatable to me on "paper." So I write today about how awful it feels to not have a male in my life. A girl won't cut the mustard for this one. I always tell Sicily that boys are dumb and smelly, and they don't start getting smart until they are about 26, but MAN. I miss having a dumb, smelly boy around.

Things are getting pretty lonely, even for someone who enjoys their own company.