For the first time in our married life, my wife has left me...
OK, not like THAT, but she's gone for 10 days, off on a trip to a family reunion, all by herself. In our entire married life together, all of 14 years, I've been the one to leave her behind when I've traveled outside the country on business.
Thank [insert deity of choice] that I have you. Yes, YOU, the kos community to help me maintain my sanity while she's gone.
You see, I have a condition that doesn't have a medical definition. I call it soul-mate dystopia syndrome. I am virtually lost without the love of my life, and for the first time in my 46 years, I feel what it's like to really miss the woman that completes me.
As many of you know, my contract, and my job, ends on June 27th. And on that fateful day, my wife, my reason for getting out of bed every day, is 2000 miles away, enjoying herself (at least, I hope she is, otherwise, there's a $1000 down the drain). I bought a bottle of tequila today to drown my sorrows, and to help me quit feeling sorry for myself in her absence... but it's not working.
I'm going to meet a fellow kossack tomorrow evening, who happens to be in town for the Gay Pride celebrations this weekend, and, even though I'm strictly hetero, that is the highlight of my time alone.
I have six mouths to feed, but since they're all cats (and don't get me wrong, 'cause I love them all), they couldn't really give a shit who I am, as long as I feed them. There is no joy in my Mudville.
I'm dreading Monday, more than the usual "employee" does, because for the first time in a long time, I won't have a reason to get the hell out of bed. My soul-mate won't be next to me when I awake, my previous employer won't miss me, I have no prospects in my Inbox, and I can't enjoy one of my favorite off-time activities since I may have to appease the man to get my next position. I fucking hate the man.
Anyway, I just wanted to drunkenblogenrantenfahrfegnugen, because it really does help. I'm not looking for sympathy, not that that's not a good thing. I'm just spewing to a like-minded group of people because I know you'll listen, and share your love... OK, I guess I'm busted. I'm a whore for love. And this community is busting at the seams with it. Do you hate me for coming here, looking for what I know you all have to offer? I guess in the end, I'm not much better than a crack whore, but I know what I like, what I need, and you, fellow kossacks (I hate that McSame has ruined the phrase "my friends" for years to come), have enough to make Matt dance, and make me smile. If one person reads this, and can relate, then my rant was worth the time it took to write. And while I'm at it, how much nicer would the world be if we all just danced a little bit more?
Peace out, you groovy mofos. I love you all (yes, even you, you pinhead. I'm a DFH; I don't know any other way to be).
~Phil
UPDATE: I wrote this last night, when I got home and the only thing waiting for me were six hungry pooties, and a couple of hairballs.