THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, July 3, 1994 TAG: 9407030369
SECTION: HAMPTON ROADS WOMAN PAGE: 05 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY JANET S. WEAVER, STAFF WRITER
LENGTH: Medium: 74 lines
A LITTLE MORE than a week ago, I drove my husband to the airport and put him on a plane.
He was flying to Oklahoma to join five of his closest friends on a canoe and camping trip. For three years, he'd tried to organize this trip, only to have it fall apart at the last minute every time. This year, everything had finally worked - all the vacation time had been lined up, the wives had been placated, the plane tickets bought.
He was as excited as an 11-year-old going backyard camping with his buddies.
And I was almost that excited. While my husband was getting time off with the boys, I was getting 11 days of time to myself.
I'd spent almost as much time planning my activities for those 11 days as my husband had in planning his trip.
The first night involved a trip to the video store - all alone. No fighting over whether we'd rent a thriller or a romance. I headed straight to the romance aisle to pick up ``Sleepless in Seattle.'' There was no one there to remind me I'd already seen it twice in the theater and make the argument for renting something I hadn't seen.
I drove home and called the pizza delivery number. Pepperoni and bacon - my favorite pizza, the kind I can never get when he's at home.
I watched my movie, ate some pizza, finished off the evening with a Dove dark chocolate bar.
The next morning, I finished my pizza - cold - for breakfast. No one there to scold me for eating such an unhealthy meal. I read the paper, and I left the sports section turned inside out on the baseball page. That drives him crazy.
The rest of the day, I alternated between reading and watching old movies on TV - all while reclining on the sofa. No one there to make me feel guilty about not cleaning the house.
I'd declared Sunday all-girls day at my house. Several of my friends came over, and we talked and drank champagne and orange juice. We even cooked out on the grill - I started the fire all by myself, without any male assistance.
On the surface, it looked like I was having a great time. I told all my friends that I was.
But I had one secret.
From the first night of my husband's trip, I hadn't been able to sleep.
That's not entirely true. I hadn't been able to sleep well.
My husband has kidded me for years about how easily I fall asleep. I can sleep virtually anywhere, any time. I love to take long naps. I can stay in bed on the weekend for 10 hours without even turning over.
Now, for the first time in my life, I was finding sleep hard to come by.
I had trouble falling asleep. When I did drift off, I slept fitfully at best. Instead of enjoying the luxury of having a queen-sized bed to myself, I tossed and turned all night.
I had to admit it to myself. My big week of precious solitude was making me an insomniac.
I thought I'd get used to it, that I'd start sleeping again after a couple of nights alone.
But that never happened. My husband's due back this weekend, and I never fell back into my normal sleeping pattern.
Even if my waking mind didn't want to admit it, I was reminded when I tried to rest. I missed him.
Yes, it was nice to rent the video I wanted and to eat the kind of pizza I liked. But they hardly made up for having no one there to share them.
So when he gets home, we'll go back to ordering a compromise pizza and arguing in the video store.
And maybe I can go back to sleeping - peacefully - at night.
- MEMO: Janet S. Weaver is the deputy managing editor of features and sports
for The Virginian-Pilot and The Ledger-Star. by CNB