After three long months, my fisherwoman wife has returned to me! If this is maybe your first time ever reading my ramblings, you might not know that my wife is a commercial fisherman and spends her summers in Alaska catching salmon by the ton. It's hard, grueling work at times and they often do it for 20+ hours a day. I say that to emphasize that I appreciate the sacrifice she makes going up there (she loves it and I'd never ask her to stop) and the toll it takes on her body just to bring home a sizable chunk of change at the end of the summer.
People often ask how life is being a bachelor for the summer, and I usually give the same response: the first month is awesome, the second month is kind of lonely, and by the third month I've reverted to some sort of feral human capable only of grunting and eating cereal over the sink. Some parts, like getting to leave my laundry on the floor until I'm good and damn ready to pick it up, are awesome. Other parts, like eating McDonald's for breakfast, SEEM awesome at first but later reveal themselves to be kind of terrible. And still other parts are just bummers, like having to re-learn to sleep alone.
Seriously. It's weird how badly my sleep is affected by not having Kat around. I wind up crafting some kind of crude scarecrow wife out of the pillows on the bed and snuggling it.
But the flip side of that is now that Kat's home, I have to re-learn how to sleep next to someone. I've grown accustomed to never making the bed, wrapping myself in intricate blanket burritos, and generally spreading out all over the mattress. Now I'm confined to half the bed and I have competition for blankets. I like it cool, with a nice breeze from my fan; Kat prefers the bedroom to be around 90 degrees.
Oh, and there's the fact that she hits me every night.
See, after doing such hard work for such a long time, Kat's got what I can only suspect is carpal tunnel syndrome in her hands. They go numb at night in her sleep, and wake her up because they start to hurt. While she was on the boat she would wake up and smack her hands against her bunk to shock some blood into them. Except now she's not on the boat and she's not in a bunk, she's lying next to me. So the past three nights I've been jarred out of a deep sleep by my wife pounding me like pizza dough.
But I suppose being beaten awake in the middle of the night is a small price to pay for having my wife home safe and sound.