Guido returns late tonight (Tuesday), concluding her mission of mercy that has extended 12 days.  So what kind of mischief did her re-bachelorized spouse get into?

I broke the garbage disposal, but I managed to make it work a day later.

I had a bike accident, running over a hole and throwing myself into the street, ripping open a knee and an elbow, badly bruising a shin, and somehow straining my chest.  Had to push the bike home, too, as something like the gears got seriously knocked out of  commission.  Me, too.  I’m cramped up and limping like declawed stone crab.

Her car battery died.  I called AAA and got it started.  It’s dead again.

This is pretty minor stuff.  I didn’t total a car (this time), or get arrested, or alienate any of her friends with lewd, drunken come-ons.  I didn’t hang out and close any bars.  I awoke in no strangers’ beds.  I didn’t start any fires or break any appliances, chiefly because I didn’t use anything more complicated than a ceiling fan.  No confrontations with the neighbors.  I didn’t get fired.  No cats were injured or mysteriously disappeared.  No holes in the wall, splintered furniture, blown speakers, or scattered glass shards.

I didn’t do shit.  In her absence I revealed myself as a broken spirit, domesticated, obedient.  Guido’s little angel.  A goddam gelding.

Life as I fantasized it is over.  So over.

I’m glad she’s home.

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