Bacheloring advice for old guys
Maybe 12 years since Iris has left me alone for more than a day or two, so I got to wondering what it is like to be a bachelor…then stumbled across a 1994 report which has valuable ideas for married men facing a little time alone.
Iris left me a list of what to prepare and eat for supper while she was attending business classes in Missoula. There was warmed over meatloaf for Tuesday night, the barbecued spare-ribs left from Monday night were suggested for Wednesday evening. Because Thursday is "Over the Hill Day," Iris had nothing planned for me, then the list showed I could cook a small steak on Friday.
There were also instructions left on what day to take the garbage out for pick-up, how to maintain the kitty litter box, what to feed the dog, how to turn off the ice making machine inside the new refrigerator, how to operate the dishwasher.
Was unable to work up one drop of enthusiasm for used meatloaf Tuesday evening so wandered down to the supermarket. A divine revelation told me to buy a large T-Bone and while going to the check out counter received a special message from Heaven to pick-up mushrooms, fresh clams, and a large sweet Bermuda onion, plus the makings of a vegetable salad. On the way back to the check stand, a strange force steered me right by a new kind of wine-vinegar and olive oil for dressing.
Prepared the feast with loving care and when it was on the table, took colored pictures to preserve the memory forever. Set one picture aside for the State Historical Society, then poured an ice cold beer into a frosted glass and spent the following hour pigging out. Life was good.
Still seemed quite full Wednesday evening so didn't feel like warming up the spare-ribs. Zapped a frozen pizza with extra cheese and a double application of pepperoni. Luckily, I'd had the foresight to pre-frost another tapered beer glass. Bachelorhood requires careful planning. Life was lonely…but life was good.
By Friday I began worrying about the leftovers I hadn't eaten. They stared at me every time I opened the frig. While Iris is a wonderful cook, she doesn't tolerate waste and I knew she expected me to be thrifty during her absence. Not to worry! Just at suppertime, daughter Heidi and husband Scott showed up on their way south to U of M Homecoming. They were planning to grab a bite on the road but I would hear none of that.
Heidi just loves meatloaf sandwiches, and it is amazing what a six-foot young man can do to a large pan of left over spare-ribs. `
Guilt began creeping into my life as I was dressing early Saturday morning before going to work. The bedroom looked like a heard of longhorns had run through there. Maybe it's something left over from the army…but I hate making the beds. Gritted my teeth and rounded up all the bedding, including the flowered spread, which in Iris' absence had crawled under a dresser. Shook everything out and carefully made the bed to look ready for a photo in Ladies Home Journal.
Iris got home in the afternoon, looked briefly into the frig, nodded in satisfaction and then went directly to the bedroom to change clothes. In a minute she came out and said, "Georgie, it was wonderful of you to clean up the leftovers and I especially appreciate the bed being made."
Iris will be gone on another trip later this year. She is excited about it, but I am even more excited because it will be my chance to do an important scientific experiment…"How long can a guy go without making a bed?"