On Cabin Fever...
This full disclosure…thing I’m doing here is getting a little uncomfortable. I’m starting to realize that I don’t really advertise myself in the best of light. I’m not saying I eat puppies or anything, although I have heard from my sources that dog is a good meal. I’m just saying that it must amaze some folks that anyone, particularly my someone, would be interesting in a lifelong commitment to me. Much less procreation of any sort, which I’d like to point out once again did happen. Whatever. I have idiosyncrasies, big deal. It’s not like I’m pining away to be you. I know about your life, and besides, your shoulders are hairy.
You might as well know though, that I consider myself a master homebody. That is, I’ve got some aptitude for not liking to go out much. That’s not to say I never go out. In fact, I believe that bowling alleys hold an allure that I’m basically powerless to stop. One look at my pre-Kaleigh credit card will tell you that I’m not exactly allergic to restaurants either. But with a 3 hour round trip commute each day from work, plus a second job at an undisclosed “trend” store that may start with a P and end in ottery Barn, I certainly don’t hate getting home and kicking back.
My wife is a “doer” in her own terminology. While I knew of her Christmas tree habits before hand, I don’t think I realized that she also came from a tribe of doers. During and after college, one of the things she particularly liked to “do” was dance. Now, it may come as no surprise, but I don’t like the night life…I don’t like to boogie. I can “get down” if I have to. Some may say that my coordinated mating dance was what attracted her in the first place. It may also have been the plumage…get your mind out of the gutter…I meant my clothing style. However, some of our more epic disagreements have revolved around her wanting to go out and me wanting to…die.
I remember distinctly leering in smug satisfaction as the pediatrician told my wife and I to not take Kaleigh out in public for a couple of months. I had won a victory. The woman would have to admit defeat for two blissful months. And it was medical too…that’s some kind of science I think. You can’t question science. I could virtually see movies flying of the Netflix queue at record…no, Olympic record pace. And I had a new ally with Tivo. It was like a double barrel blast of time wasting goodness.
I was wrong. So very, very wrong. Not that I think it is some kind of mental illness, but if you want the cure to homebody…uh, ness, then I suggest you get yourself one of these infant things. Suddenly your utopia of docility becomes something all together ugly…something that I had not had much experience with…Cabin Fever. While not technically a true fever, I think I’d rather have something physically wrong…just so long as I can leave the house!
As bad as it is for me, I atleast get to go to work. That’s supposed to be some sort of freakin’ consolation I guess. My wife however...let’s just say when I return home, her eyes…well, they are wild. Hair isn’t pulled out…yet, but it certainly is disheveled. I’m serious too. I, being the model husband, told my wife to get out the house one evening this week. So she did. She called to tell me she was just driving around…I won’t claim it was driving aimlessly…but she didn’t have a destination. If you just drive around in Northern Virginia to relax…you’ve got Cabin Fever…chronically.
So you can imagine that I am pining away for the day of ballet, soccer practice and brownie/girl scouts (and not just for the cookies). You can also not be surprised when we show up on your doorstep…
You might as well know though, that I consider myself a master homebody. That is, I’ve got some aptitude for not liking to go out much. That’s not to say I never go out. In fact, I believe that bowling alleys hold an allure that I’m basically powerless to stop. One look at my pre-Kaleigh credit card will tell you that I’m not exactly allergic to restaurants either. But with a 3 hour round trip commute each day from work, plus a second job at an undisclosed “trend” store that may start with a P and end in ottery Barn, I certainly don’t hate getting home and kicking back.
My wife is a “doer” in her own terminology. While I knew of her Christmas tree habits before hand, I don’t think I realized that she also came from a tribe of doers. During and after college, one of the things she particularly liked to “do” was dance. Now, it may come as no surprise, but I don’t like the night life…I don’t like to boogie. I can “get down” if I have to. Some may say that my coordinated mating dance was what attracted her in the first place. It may also have been the plumage…get your mind out of the gutter…I meant my clothing style. However, some of our more epic disagreements have revolved around her wanting to go out and me wanting to…die.
I remember distinctly leering in smug satisfaction as the pediatrician told my wife and I to not take Kaleigh out in public for a couple of months. I had won a victory. The woman would have to admit defeat for two blissful months. And it was medical too…that’s some kind of science I think. You can’t question science. I could virtually see movies flying of the Netflix queue at record…no, Olympic record pace. And I had a new ally with Tivo. It was like a double barrel blast of time wasting goodness.
I was wrong. So very, very wrong. Not that I think it is some kind of mental illness, but if you want the cure to homebody…uh, ness, then I suggest you get yourself one of these infant things. Suddenly your utopia of docility becomes something all together ugly…something that I had not had much experience with…Cabin Fever. While not technically a true fever, I think I’d rather have something physically wrong…just so long as I can leave the house!
As bad as it is for me, I atleast get to go to work. That’s supposed to be some sort of freakin’ consolation I guess. My wife however...let’s just say when I return home, her eyes…well, they are wild. Hair isn’t pulled out…yet, but it certainly is disheveled. I’m serious too. I, being the model husband, told my wife to get out the house one evening this week. So she did. She called to tell me she was just driving around…I won’t claim it was driving aimlessly…but she didn’t have a destination. If you just drive around in Northern Virginia to relax…you’ve got Cabin Fever…chronically.
So you can imagine that I am pining away for the day of ballet, soccer practice and brownie/girl scouts (and not just for the cookies). You can also not be surprised when we show up on your doorstep…
posted by Beeley at 12:58 PM
2 Comments:
All it took was a handful of women for you to be pining away for me and my hairy shoulders. And the shoulders you got to look at are even hairier than mine.
Maybe I shouldn't have written this - no context for others makes it a very sketchy post.
I laughed precisely for that reason badger. No context rules.
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