Camping season is over, so Mark went up to Pentwater, Michigan to prepare our trailer for winter. Whoot! I would be alone for three nights! My mind starts to race with plans. I would be free to choose any TV programs I wanted to watch. I could eat whatever I wanted for dinner (most probably mac ‘n cheese and circus peanuts). My to-do list would include power washing the siding, digitally converting the VHS tapes, remodeling the kitchen and pouring a new driveway. Then, maybe, I would put my summer clothes away. Also, were the Pinterest projects…Needless to say, the list went on and on.

Night One:
I figured out how to stream the first, full season of “The Good Wife” (Freudian?) from Amazon Prime and proceeded to watch. After the sixth episode, I made the mistake of turning on Dateline…I hear: “The story you’re about to hear is the stuff of nightmares. A cold blooded serial killer lurking in the woods at night, peeping through windows and stalking his next victim.”

I know I present a façade of being brave to my friends and family, but, yikes! It’s bedtime! I quickly secure all the windows and doors and pull curtains and shades as I go. Next, a shoe is placed near my nightstand so I can bludgeon the intruder. (I once woke in the middle of the night holding my alarm clock, so a gun isn’t a choice here). Should I use the sleep sound machine? If I do, I won’t hear the home invasion that most certainly will occur. It’s 2:30 am. I make a decision and turn on the white noise machine with hope for peaceful slumber.

Just as I drift off to La-La Land, a huge crash wakes me. My heart is thudding and I’m too afraid to move. But I realize that I must. So I use the toilet to prevent soiling the carpeting and take the flashlight to investigate. Aha! The shower adapter (glued to the wall with a lame suction cup) fell into the tub. That’s a relief. I crawl back into bed and, well, I pray.

I usually feel guilty about praying for unimportant things, but I prayed that I would sleep. And, I did. It was 4:30 am last I checked. Ugh!

Day One:
On my first morning alone (I use this term lightly, since it’s 10:45 am), I can’t think of a thing to do. So, I begin to pin “cleaning tips” on Pinterest. Huh! Where’d the time go? It’s now cocktail hour! But before I mix my cocktail, I spray everything with Febreeze! Yay! Everything smells better and the cocktail does much to relieve my guilt.

Next thing I know, it’s too dark to do anything. I settle into the couch and hit the remote. I choose “Hoarders” because I think it will get me in the mood to clean. Nope. I doze on the sofa until bedtime then hit the sack. No worries about home invasions. I’m asleep in minutes.

Day Two:
I can’t remember what needs to get done. Logically, first on the agenda is to find my to-do list. Where can it be? While looking for that elusive list, I come across a couple of magazines from May and October, 2014 and begin to flip through. There’s a recipe that sounds good and I check the internet to see if those advertised shoes are still available.

Two hours later, I get back on track and look for the list. I give up after twenty minutes, but make myself feel better when I remember that I made my bed this morning. That deserves a reward. I make a cup of coffee, using the indulgent Keurig and have a row of Keebler Deluxe Chocolate Chip and Coconut cookies.

Day Three:
Panic! Mark will be home tonight! I haven’t accomplished anything and need to get to it. Not that I worry about his comments, this is a self-punishing thing. I feel time was wasted. So, I hit the stove.

But before I do, I check my Pinterest pins. Ha! Put the burner grates in a plastic bag with a ½ cup of ammonia and let it sit overnight. I can do that!
Mark arrived after midnight and it’s off to bed. I may not have accomplished everything on my list, but I’m caught up on FaceBook and my email inbox is down to triple digits. And, the best part of it all…I wasn’t murdered.