Life on my own

Marc's been gone for a day now and I'm out of projects.
When he first decided to help his daughter and her three little ones drive out to visit another daughter in California, I'll admit I was somewhat uncharitably enthusiastic.

My missing clown

It's been literally 22 years since I've had unstructured time to myself to think, organize, clean and create. Marc, loving husband that he is, tends to pop in on me about every 10-15 minutes or so to say hi or to give me a hug. (Rough life, huh?) It's great but I seldom get any deep cleaning or rearranging finished.
So as soon as he confirmed his plans, I made lists.
There were closets to clean out, clothes to sort, paintings to paint and books to read.
I had 19 projects in mind before he was packed.
He left on Wednesday morning at 8:30 a.m. and it's now Thursday morning.
I've cleared the linen cupboard, the bathroom vanities, dresser drawers and the game closet.
I've sorted Barbie dolls and Barbie clothes by color and social event, taken non-essential clothes of my own and outdated books to the library and the DI. I've alphabetized my CDs.
I've inventoried the food storage.
I'm updating my teaching materials files, family photos and my genealogy.
It's really quite amazing what can be accomplished in solitude.
I'm making progress.
The house feels neat and pulled together. I know where most everything is.
But you know what?
It's not really home this way. It's sterile and lonesome.
Hurry back, my love.