Widow Fantasies

Alyssa and I are watching the Netflix series, “I’m Sorry.”

Let me state right here that this show is so completely inappropriate for my teenage daughter to be watching but she insists that she hears worse language in the first ten minutes at school each day and I figure, what the hell? Right?

Sure, whatever justification gets me to get on with this story, right?

Okay then. Now that it’s been established that I’m a horrible mother, let’s move on to the fact that I’m also a terrible wife.

Yes. There it is

Back to “I’m sorry”. One of the episodes is titled “Divorce Fantasies”. The main character, Andrea, is a happily married woman with a friend who has just gotten divorced. Andrea tells her friend that she (Andrea) sometimes fantasizes about being divorced and how great it would be to get to date in this new and amazing online world.

I told Lyss that I have no fantasies about being divorced. Divorce seems like a lot of work and I’m not really interested in finding out what it’s like to date.

But I do think about being widowed.

Let me remind you that Tom doesn’t leave our house to go to work. So each time he DOES leave for any reason whatsoever, I worry that he won’t be back. I think, “Okay, this is the day he’ll be in an accident that kills him instantly.”

Then I think about how lucky we are that I am the one who covers the insurance for our family. Also about how I’d use the life insurance we have on him to pay off the house, so the girls and I wouldn’t have to move in with my mom and step-dad right away.

I can’t imagine dating, even if I were widowed. I think I’m past that point in my life.

But who knows what might happen once…Ha! I almost wrote ‘once the girls are out of the house.” Hahahahaha.

I will never be lonely because I will probably have my sweet Liv with me. There’s a comfort to that thought even if it is wrapped in sadness for her. I want more for her than to live with her mom (and probably her dad, I’m not actually wishing him dead for Pete Sakes!) (Note to any new readers, I KNOW the saying is Pete’s sake. It’s an old joke to say Pete Sakes. Just go with it. Though honestly, if I were going with the tone set by the above mentioned television show, I’d have said for fuck’s sake. So, hey, I’m being pretty PG here.)

I do wonder, though, how much to shit my house would go if Tom were to die. I mean, I can vacuum and keep things fairly clean but he’s the one who insists on no eating outside the kitchen/dining area. Left up to me, the cat would probably move in, the girls would eat in the living room (I would to, duh!) and, well, we’d probably live in filth.

And the outside? Forget it. I would have to hire someone to mow because that seems like a lot of work.

Okay, the fantasy has officially become a nightmare. I don’t want him to die. Not that I ever did, but now that I’ve really thought about it…I really, REALLY don’t want to find out what it’s like to be a widow.