New Year, New You

- Intermezzo -

My wife said to enjoy the next two weeks of single life. She meant well, but I'd just be plugging all the leaks before she got back.

I’m writing this on the eleventh day of this year, the final one of my temporary bachelorhood. She’s up in the air as we speak, returning from her overseas trip to Taiwan.

My friend asked how the boys had been holding up while mom was away.

Oh, it’s been very calm and peaceful.

It makes me wonder what the neighbors think—it's impossible to not notice the decibel level has plummeted from a thousand to negative zero.

As he’s gotten older, Winston has gained the wisdom and maturity to remain unaffected by the chaos that unfolds around him.—not so for Felix, who guzzles it down like Red Bull.

Though he’s certainly an all too energetic pup, he's also a sharp and trainable one. I’ve only discovered this since my wife's been gone—no one constantly running around the house like a headless chicken.

'Do something about this guy!' she often says. What she doesn't understand is for certain dogs, it only takes one person to raise them.

For Felix, the magic number is two.

He's quite obedient, now that I've had extra attention to give to him. And I’ve only had this surplus because I’ve finally had an ample amount of uninterrupted time for myself.

In the absence of distraction, equilibrium has returned to my solar system. The only concern is how to keep my gravity from getting sucked back into my wife's orbit.

But how do you keep yourself happy when you have to be alone to realize it?

Ah well, I'm sure things will be different this time around—what's that saying?

New Year, New You.

Wait a minute ... I remember saying all of this last year.

Crap.