In My Head, At Least.....

I'm taking the plunge and entering the world of blogging, ya'll.  Deep breath.....GO!

My husband is out of town right now.  I adore my husband.  Really I do.  He's the cutest little engineer you've ever seen.  He's funny, he's sexy (I'm sure my kids are saying 'Mom, Puleze!), and he's brilliant.  I think smart is SO sexy.  I miss my husband and will be SO GLAD when he gets home.  BUT you know what?  I'm enjoying having a little time to myself.  I'm sure it's only enjoyable because it's temporary. If I knew it was going to be more permanent, I'm sure it would be a different story.
I'm not afraid to stay by myself.  Never have been.  It kind of gags me when ladies shreik, "And there I was, all alone in the house...." Yeah, and you're still alive to gab about it, aren't you, so you obviously didn't have that much to be scared about. 
I love being independent.  In fact, it is both a strength and a weakness.  It's a strength (in my head, at least) because I can find a way to do most things all by myself, and the weakness:  I find fault when help is given.  I find myself wanting to say, "Um, if you don't mind (and really, even if you DO), I am sure that I can do a much better job (in my head, at least), so if you'll just skedaddle, I'll do it RIGHT, even if it takes me ten times longer."  I wring my hands and fidget (in my head, at least) and impatiently pace (in my head, at least) hoping the 'helper' will give up and put it in my very capable (in my head, at least) hands. 
I like to do things alone.  It's not that I don't love people; I do.  But I like to 'work' alone.  I love to work.  I love to sweep, mop, cook, scrub, iron, pull weeds, saw, hammer, put things together, sew, paint, vacuum, and dump things out (like closets) and start from scratch.  I may not throw anything out, but it just 'feels' better afterwards.  And I usually find several things I forgot I owned. 
My husband truly can NOT comprehend that I love this kind of physical work, because he hates it. I think (in my head, at least) he thinks I'm lying about it, which is a genuine puzzlement to me. 
One of my favorite things to do is to find an old beat up piece of furniture, take it apart, shore up the worn out 'joints', sand, scrub, and paint it, bringing it back to life. More than once I've left a junk store secretly broken hearted because my husband refused to haul 'that old piece of junk' home, because even if I DO get around to fixing it, where on earth am I going to put it?  Such practical thoughts do not enter my brain.  To me, that little chair needs my help and I can make it beautiful again.  It's like leaving a little orphan in the junk store.  If I don't save it, who will? Then I usually pout the rest of the day, or at least until we go home and I drink a Coke or Dr. Pepper.  That always improves my mood. 
This also explains my preference to shop sans spouse.  Shopping unencumbered by the thought process is more my cup-o-tea.  Plus I don't have to go home to get my soft drink. My Sonic radar saves me from the long, dry drive home....or the drive to the next junk store.  My infinitely practical, cute little engineer does not understand the appeal of Sonic.  How can somebody so smart be so dumb?
I love to play the piano, and not just play a song....I love the scales, the arpeggios, the 'exercises'....the stuff that drives the other people in the house insane.  (I'm pretty sure that's why my husband bought me an electronic piano, complete with HEADPHONES, so he doesn't have to listen to me play those 15 measures over and over and over and over until I get it right.  My kids used to think those were the only 15 measures in the song.) 
I love algebraic formulas.  There is beauty in the harmony of the math used in the formulas.  Very elegant.  Infinitely Useful.  And utterly Mysterious to most folks.  "Ewe, you like math.  What a geek."  To which I proudly & geekily reply, "Guilty, as charged" (in my head, at least.)