July 4th is quickly approaching, and in the good ole USA, that means HOLIDAY weekend. Barbecues, booze, fireworks. America. Fuck yeah.
Manchild’s family is having a party on Saturday, then my brand new niece will be baptized on Sunday, the little bite-sized sinner that she is. Naturally, we’re invited to all of these shenanigans, and naturally neither one of us really want to go. Of course, there’s the familial obligation, but I’m off the hook since his family prefers ailing cows to yours truly.
The assumption was that I will be going with him because he hates to leave me alone for extended periods. That was until I let him know I wasn’t going because “I want you to enjoy your weekend unencumbered.”. What that really means is, fuck all that.
I spend most of my time alone, and when I’m not alone, I wish I were alone. I don’t know if that’s healthy, but if I think about it, I’m happiest this way. Would I be happier if I weren’t as isolated? Hmmmmmm…nope! That’s not to say that I don’t like people. I really do (in small doses). The thought of spending a whole three days alone fills me with glee, even if it is a holiday weekend. I can’t eat anything with pig, or anything with fiber, so that makes a barbecue nothing more than an insult.
Traveling with me is a pain in the ass, so the un/encumbered thing isn’t that much of a stretch. It’s worth it if it happens to be something we’re both looking forward to, otherwise it’s a double shot of stress that we don’t need. I tend to get sick after traveling, so it sure as hell better be worth the potential hospital time. In this case, I’m in favor of resting on my laurels while he deals with his fam-damily. Does this make me a jerk? Absolutely.
I’ve got some reading/eating/ceiling staring to catch up on this weekend, and it’s going to be some mighty peaceful reading/eating/ceiling staring. Have a lovely weekend, people!