The First Stage of Grief is Denial
Starting this evening, I become a Wrestling Widow.
Over the years, I have gotten somewhat used to the situation and, as soon as Hugh gets his official schedule of officiating duties; I up my Netflix subscription to the next level, fill my queue with chick-flicks and stock my kitchen with Cheese-Its and chocolate, all the things that a Weekend Widow must do to deal with her isolation and, for the most part, I am never bored or lonely without him.
Of course, it helps that I generally still have a ton of baking to do for the holidays as well as last-minute shopping and wrapping of presents.
Oh, and let’s not forget that I usually still have to plan our holiday meals, allowing enough time for hyperventilating over the lack of perfection in my culinary expertise in addition to which; the mental debate over whether we should have turkey or ham for Christmas dinner generally takes up a good deal of my time not to mention all the time spent agonizing over whether or not I should bake pumpkin and banana breads when, in all honesty, I am the only one who ever eats them and, really; do I need all that fat? No, I do not. But, still! Pumpkin bread! Banana bread! How can I break with tradition?
And, yes, that debate rages on in my head every year.
So, you see how much time this takes up, I’m sure.
I'll be fine.
Not lonely at all.
No boredom, here.
To recap: I’ll miss Hugh but; I have things to do and, you know, fat cells to feed......
oh my god, I need a hobby.