Trial Separation

So when my favorite wife left me on this “trial separation”, or rather, this necessary separation that has turned into a trial, we both knew it was necessary for her to take care of family matters.

I was kinda lookin’ forward to it. The silence was golden. Well, up until it was time to eat. That’s when the muttering began. By the third day I was talking to myself, and I must say, found my own company and discourse quite companionable. I can be pretty funny at times, (but I try not to laugh out loud – that would be immodest.)

By the fifth day I was beginning to find my own voice grating on my nerves, and my jokes were no longer funny.

By the sixth day I was going morose. Not talking much, more back to muttering. And when I did mutter something trivial, my reaction was to just say, “SHUT UP!”

Yesterday I was mad enough at the chickens I threatened to shoot one of them to make the rest behave. (It’s a darn good think I’m not going to a shrink right now – they would take away my guns for sure.)

Today I found that the four puppies had escaped from their kennel pen, and I knew that when? Instantly, when I walked out on the front porch and my glance fell on my green underwear lying in the driveway. How embarrassing! I know, we live in the country, but still – a passing airplane could have seen them! Grrrrrrrrr.

But it got better. The potted plants knocked over were nothing compared to where I found those apprentice coyotes – eating that very chicken I threatened to shoot yesterday, but to which I had extended grace. WHEN the chickens die is MY prerogative.

It’s been a month now (or is it a week? It’s all getting blurry), and I’ve turned to music. Looking for something to calm my nerves and help my inner voice quit saying some of those awful things.

Classic music only made it worse. Country/Western? I don’t think so! I’m already humming “Put your head upon my pillow,” while I try to pray at night! The only thing that soothes my angst so far is heavy metal acid rock turned up to eleven!

The puppy pen is patched up. They are fed (as if they deserve it), the chicken pen is closed (only half of the chickens are running around the yard scratching up flower beds and eating tomatoes in the garden). And I’m cleaning my guns to calm my nerves.

Right after I sell these puppies (ask for discount now!) because I am about to take a vacation – apart from my inner self!