The Lost Weekend

So I head into the weekend with a plan for my transforming life (sort of) and nothing for my social life.

But let's back up a minute. We forgot all about Easter.  It was a defining holiday, even without the tragedy that straddled it.

So Craig came and went and I took my kids to my college town for a few days.  And then, in the middle of what would on a normal custody week, I had to return them to Lars, since we share the holiday weeks since we separated.  We each get a little quality time with the kids and the burden of days of from work so they don't sit at home and vegetate while we toil. This will be brutal. I have a long stretch without them.

But I've told Craig that I would love to see him if he finds it feasible. Something tells me it might be, but I have no idea why I think that. I am kidding myself thinking I know the first thing about what goes on in the driver's seat of his world.

As the weekend draws near, I ask Craig cheerfully what the possibilities are that I will see his handsome face again so soon.

Exactly none, evidently.  There are sporting events and family visiting and then it's Easter (as if I weren't acutely aware that Easter was waiting at the top of the stairs) so he will have no time "to kick back" with me.

Is that what we are doing?  We kick back?  I thought these were dates. Who knew? 

But my friend from work has a suggestion. She invites me to Book Club.  Evidently it is no big deal that I have not read the book. It's a sure bet that almost no one has. This Book Club Meeting is really just a cover for getting together and eating and drinking and gossiping about all that has happened since the last so-called meeting.

She says to be practical, my spare room in her house is ready. Pack a bag and come out and join them. Maybe I can suggest the next book. If I've read it, chances are they will at least download it on their Kindles.

On Friday, I return from work, shower and change and grab my bag.  I pack only PJs and running clothes as I will capitalize on the morning by heading directly to the park for a jaunt on the trails. The busier I am, the less crappy I will feel about my extended bought of the Lonelies.

And it is exactly what the doctor has ordered.  A bunch of fun, funny women, exactly one husband, a family dog who won't leave my side, and a couple of sweet kids who are happy to bring Mommy the wine from the fridge when someone needs to be topped off.

I get a text or two from Craig that make me feel more important than I had. And I get a text from Scott. He and the kids bought a group session of paint ball and were headed out to chase each other through the woods with loaded rifles full of paint.  I can't imagine anything more hideous and disturbing at the moment, but he's right when he says that Pat would love it.

The night wears on, it gets very, very late. The kids nod off, the ladies file out one by one, repeating the name of a book we think we might be able to commit to at least thumbing through.  I help clean up and then head off to slumber in my charming little farmhouse guest room.  I plug in my phone as I lay down to sleep and send Craig a good night text.

And I notice that I have a text from Scott. He'd sent it about an hour after the last one.

I choose to ignore it.