When the cat's away...

[ridiculously gorgeous photo by Carl Carl]

A little while ago Jodie over at Mummy Mayhem wrote a blog post about not sleeping and not eating well when her husband goes away.  

As you may have gathered, my husband travels.  A lot.  It's been that way since before we got together, and I actually kind of like it.  It gives me a chance to not eat steak and to watch So You Think You Can Dance.  And to catch up on blog reading and twittering and crafting and generally indulge my anti-social, slightly selfish tendencies without having to worry that I am perhaps a very bad and neglectful wifey.  

I sometimes joke that when he retires we'll have to take turns in staying at a hotel for a night every now again, just so we don't drive each other completely crazy have a chance to miss each other.  I absolutely adore my husband - he is the smartest, wisest, funniest person I know, my best friend, my better half - but I do treasure my occasional nights alone, probably more so than I'd be prepared to admit out loud.  (Though actually we did just spend one whole continuous month together and it was so awesome!).

Anyhow (get to the point Emily...) Jodie's post made me think about the way my behaviour changes when the husband is away.  It's the strangest thing because when he's here, I'm always campaigning for a reasonable bed time, because he always wants to stay up late and watch funny things and talk about the world.  But when he's away I have to really focus in order to get to bed before 1am.  It's like I have a bunch of nervous energy; or like I'm a bit at sea, rudderless without our routine.  And it turns out that when he's away from me he goes to bed early.  It's like some weird topsy-turvy world.  Bizarro huh?