Anne is in Iowa for her best friend’s wedding. Courtney is finishing up a week of camping with some of her relatives including her grand father and several cousins. So for the past 36 hours (roughly) I’ve been living the bachelor life once again. Surprisingly, it’s not all that different from married life.

Sure, there’s some small differences such as not having to worry about someone needing to desperately use the bathroom two seconds after I just plopped my ass on the can even though they had been sitting in the same room with me for the past four hours and it didn’t occur to them that we even had a bathroom let alone that they had a need to use it until I went in to take care of business. And I don’t have to walk around the house turning off all the lights someone else keeps turning on for no apparent reason before fleeing the room. But other than that it’s a lot like being married.

Only, quieter.

I’m sure it’ll come as a surprise to some that I’m more than able to prepare food and feed myself when left to my own devices and I’m even capable of doing the dishes and taking out the garbage when it needs to be done. The best part, though, has been jumping up and down on the bed and doing my best McCauly Caulkin imitation in the mirror. Now all I need are a couple of idiot crooks who are amazingly impervious to injury to try and break into the apartment and I’ll have all the makings for my own over-hyped holiday comedy. I’m sure I could find at least a couple of dozen different ways I could injure someone in a comical manner using the random assortment of items I have at hand. There’s at least three PC cases that would be good for a concussion or two and my wife, being a former teacher, still has a shitload of “arts and crafts” supplies around here that would come in handy in just such a contingency. Best of all will be all the movie merchandising tie-ins that I could land from something like that. I think every kid would want his very own Stupid Evil Bastard Plush Doll this Christmas, don’t you?