Aftermath from being alone all weekend |

Aftermath from being alone all weekend

You’ll have to pardon me if I seem a little rushed, I’ve been living as a temporarily bachelor. Kate had a last-minute opportunity to go home and see her family for Easter and she took it.

So for six days I was on my own, which was fine, up until the day she came home and I had to, umm, hide … no “adjust” the apartment for her arrival.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I love Kate and I adore spending time with her, but there are things that she doesn’t like to do that I do and her being away gives me the opportunity to do them.

They are not big things, it’s little stuff like watching a “South Park” marathon, ordering a pizza with mounds of meat on it (she’s a cheese-only girl) or not shaving for six days.

The problem is that it’s a slippery slope. Kate inspires me to be a better person, she stimulates the logical side of me that usually loses to my lazy, moronic side.

For example, when Kate’s around, I am up early every morning to get in a workout before work. Good-bye Kate, HEEEELLLLLOOOOOO snooze button.

So, not having her around was slightly scary ” it’s like the ghost of Jarid’s past. It’s like I hit my head ” again ” and my thought process has reverted back to a simpler, lazier time.

I gotta tell you, I’m not a fan of “simpler Jarid” and this became abundantly clear when Kate’s return was immanent and “upgraded Jarid” returned.

Dishes? Dishes don’t need to be done “right away,” I’ll just “let them soak.”

See that’s how I ended up with a sink full of half-cleaned dishes that were still “soaking.”

Then there was the night I was pretending to be Emeril Lagasse, but better ” because I could cook.

And juggle.

It took me two hours to get all the cinnamon off the floor and I ended up throwing away the lid to the cooking spray after it shattered during an attempt to keep it, the olive oil and the cinnamon aloft.

I’d have been OK if I wouldn’t have reached for my beer.

Six days without the girlfriend and the bulk of my time was spent watching movies ” alone.

Yet I am forced to wonder how such a boring weekend could require such panicked cleaning?

Perhaps my cleanup wouldn’t have been a problem had I started more than 3 hours before I was set to pick her up at the airport.

Plus I spent a hour trying to figure out how to get Cheetos dust out of the couch and deleting the Internet history off her computer. It took me another 15 minutes to take all the trash out, just trip after trip of pizza boxes and empty bottles.

The worst part is, Kate knows me well enough to leave me a checklist.

OK, let’s check the list she left for me. Did I:

Wash the towels and sheets? Febreezed is the same as washed, right?

Make sure to feed the fish every day? Two days out of six counts, they look fat anyway.

Wash the cars? I’ll pray for rain on the way to the airport.

This, my friends, is what you deal with when your girlfriend has superhuman senses. It’s like she’s a freakin’ robot with X-ray vision and a superhuman sense of smell.

Bringing her home is like turning a bloodhound loose in our house.

“Oh, it’s good to be home … sniff, sniff, sniff … what did you burn?”

“What?!? Noth … OK there may have been a small fire involving several towels and a potholder. In my defense, those things are supposed to protect against heat, not burst into flame.”

“How do you not notice that? What were you doing that distracted you from the fire in our kitchen? And what is the brown stuff all over the floor?”

“Funny story, you know Emeril Lagasse …”

Tell me your thoughts.

– Jarid Shipley is the Features Editor for the Nevada Appeal. Contact him a or 881-1217.