The Bachelor

Well, the wife and kids are back, and the house is a mess again. There are puzzles scattered all over the floor, the contents of the wife's purse are strewn about the house, potty chairs dot the landscape like rusty cars in a field, the kitchen is overflowing with dirty dishes and half eaten meals the twins grew bored with, and I couldn't be happier. I must admit that I missed everybody more than I could have imagined.

I thought it would be a piece of cake. I had a sound plan. Play golf and relax without the wife and kids to bother me. Sure, the golf was fun, but when I got home to an empty house... I got bored. There was no wife for me to pester and annoy. Nobody in sight for me to pick on and aggravate. I had nothing to entertain me for four whole days but a few old episodes of the Phil Silvers Show, otherwise known as Sgt. Bilko. I watched each episode twice and fell into a deep depression, unable to remove myself from the couch.

I thought I might be more productive without having to watch out for two toddlers, but without those twins providing me with motivation, I was useless. Usually the twins will use me as a trampoline-slash-monkey bars for a couple of hours when I get up in the morning while I try to drink coffee and catch up on the news. Then I get frustrated and must remove myself from the kicking and prodding and clawing and climbing and the smashing of my private parts. There's only so much I can take, after all, so I put on Thomas and go clean the kitchen or take out the trash, just to get some peace. But here I was, all alone, enjoying nothing but peace, and I was too miserable to clean a thing. Fortunately for me, there was nobody here to make a mess, so the house looked pretty much like it did before the wife up and left me to my own devices.

I survived on the bare essentials... chips, Rotel dip, bratwurst, and buns. I had some sauteed onions and peppers with the bratwurst because I needed some vegetables in my diet. One morning I got creative and made a bratwurst, onion, and pepper omelet. It was a masterpiece of bachelor cuisine, if I do say so myself. That's not all I ate, of course. There were a few helpings of fine fast food in there also. In four days, I dirtied one skillet, three plates, two glasses, and three tupperware dishes. Not bad. I did manage to mow the yard and set off a couple of flea bombs, just so the wife couldn't say I didn't do anything. Of course, the cats have replenished the house with fleas by now, but at least the flies are dead.

I was glad to come home last night to find the wife waiting up for me. I missed her dearly. So much so that I didn't even pick on her one little bit. Then I snuck into the kids' room just to have a look at them. I got down on my hands and knees and kissed Jack on the cheek. Then my eyes adjusted to the dim light and I realized it was his butt cheek. No matter. I would have kissed Ella, too, but she was writhing and moaning and speaking in tongues as if a Pentecostal pastor were laying hands on her, casting out her demons, and I didn't want to wake her. But I sure was glad to see them this morning... and my dirty house, too.