Feck.
It seems that after the kazillion years of living with (and being married to) the hubby, I am incapable of remembering what I used to do with all my free private time in the years before.
Don't worry, the marriage is fine, he's just off to flippin' Perpignan (with my blessing), all the way down in hot sunny beautiful peaceful France, and I'm stuck with leaving home at 7:15 for work and returning at about 19:45.
Once home, I do some reading, eating, cuddle the cats (and also try to make the new one understand that he should play all day while I'm away, so he can nap on my lap, not the other way around, flippin' hypercreature), play some games, play at couchpotato, dabble a bit in the garden (well, just since today because summer has *finally* arrived in Belgium), and it's not enough to fill the hours.
The weirdness of being single suddenly is fatiguing. I feel completely out of whack at home, and the new workplace feels, of all places, most normal. I'm constantly catching myself about to run over to the hubbty to tell him something (a joke, a bit of news, some rant on politics or people in general etc), then remembering he's not here. He's over there. Damnit. Haven't been away from each other for longer than two days in over oh let's say twelve years.
What makes it worse is the workplace being positively French speaking, so in between the speaking/hearing of a lot of French, and the writing/reading/watching of mainly English, not being to able to rant in Dutch when I come home makes me feel lost and alienated of erm myself, if that makes any sense. I wonder if in a few days I'll end up hanging around in the grocery shop without wanting to buy something, just for the kick of being able to speak and hear Dutch, you know, like those people who are always standing in your way socializing in shops because they don't have a life?
Maybe I'll take in 30 stray cats and speak to them in the coming ten days; though the 3 we have now ain't much use on the front of Belgian politics, or stupid-people-rants in general. Maybe because they secretly know *all* people are stupid.
In any case, I should write some mails, like to my brother to find out if we can visit him in Abu Dhabi in November, or to P&M in Bretagne because I suck at keeping in touch. I should also call my friend and see if she has any plans for the weekend, because else I'll end up suiciding me on Sunday (or die of loneliness/boredom, whatever comes first).
Big fucking *le SIGH*
Don't worry, the marriage is fine, he's just off to flippin' Perpignan (with my blessing), all the way down in hot sunny beautiful peaceful France, and I'm stuck with leaving home at 7:15 for work and returning at about 19:45.
Once home, I do some reading, eating, cuddle the cats (and also try to make the new one understand that he should play all day while I'm away, so he can nap on my lap, not the other way around, flippin' hypercreature), play some games, play at couchpotato, dabble a bit in the garden (well, just since today because summer has *finally* arrived in Belgium), and it's not enough to fill the hours.
The weirdness of being single suddenly is fatiguing. I feel completely out of whack at home, and the new workplace feels, of all places, most normal. I'm constantly catching myself about to run over to the hubbty to tell him something (a joke, a bit of news, some rant on politics or people in general etc), then remembering he's not here. He's over there. Damnit. Haven't been away from each other for longer than two days in over oh let's say twelve years.
What makes it worse is the workplace being positively French speaking, so in between the speaking/hearing of a lot of French, and the writing/reading/watching of mainly English, not being to able to rant in Dutch when I come home makes me feel lost and alienated of erm myself, if that makes any sense. I wonder if in a few days I'll end up hanging around in the grocery shop without wanting to buy something, just for the kick of being able to speak and hear Dutch, you know, like those people who are always standing in your way socializing in shops because they don't have a life?
Maybe I'll take in 30 stray cats and speak to them in the coming ten days; though the 3 we have now ain't much use on the front of Belgian politics, or stupid-people-rants in general. Maybe because they secretly know *all* people are stupid.
In any case, I should write some mails, like to my brother to find out if we can visit him in Abu Dhabi in November, or to P&M in Bretagne because I suck at keeping in touch. I should also call my friend and see if she has any plans for the weekend, because else I'll end up suiciding me on Sunday (or die of loneliness/boredom, whatever comes first).
Big fucking *le SIGH*