What’s that you said? You are going to take the kids to dinner tonight? Then do the grocery shopping? Well, well, big guy, it seems that after 13 years of marriage, you still know how to turn me on. Don’t worry about me being lonely tonight. I have plans of my own. Big, dirty plans. Plans that involve me, the sofa and chocolate. A ménage à trois, if you will.
You see, first I am going to slowly slip off these jeans that I have been wearing all day. They are reminding me of the countless cookies I have eaten lately, and really, it is pissing me off. I am just going to leave them on the floor. For somebody else to pick up.
Then I am going to take the biggest spoon I can find, get that container of ice cream I have hidden in the back of the freezer, and leave it on the counter. It takes time you know, to get it soft and relaxed enough to do just what I want. It will be waiting for me to dive in, but the moment has to be just right. I need to be able to scoop long, slow scoops. I like perfect balls that are soft at the edges, but firm in the middle. I don’t even need a bowl. Those tiny things are just a waste of my time.
After I have had my way with the carton of Rocky Road, I will be all jacked on up sugar, ready and willing to make some more bad decisions. This is probably when I will start dancing on the furniture, even though it is one of the most forbidden things in our house. You know why? I like to keep those springs nice and tight, just for me. I am the one that vacuums it everyday. I deserve a good jump on the sofa whenever I fucking please.
After that, I am sure to be all sweaty. I will have something long and hot on my mind. Only a long, hot bath can fulfill my fantasies. I will soak in silence, without an audience. I can barely contain myself just thinking about it.
I won’t even look at those Christmas cards I never get around to mailing. I am not going to be touching those piles of gift wrapping on the floor. I will be touching something else. Sometimes a woman has to please her own damn self. I will be holding onto my favorite device. You know, the one that streams Netflix and has that book I just downloaded the other day?
So have fun, my love. Don’t worry about me being lonely tonight. Take your time. Just please, keep it down when you come in the door. I am sure to be unconscious.
Oh, and next week, when I take the kids out and leave you at home, do whatever you want. I won’t even leave a honey do list. Just not the couch. No jumping on the couch. That bitch is mine.
About the author: Katie Smith had three kids in three years and crafts her ass off in order to stay sane. She loves to write, wear faux leather pants, eat at burger joints, and make beautiful things. She pays her kids to rub her feet and play with her hair. You can see more on her blog www.philigry.com, Facebook and Instagram.