Monday, January 3

11:00 am
My Office

Happy Fucking New Year.

Cate just called me with disappointing news.  Have to cancel our getaway.  She has to go out with a team to serve a search/arrest warrant Wednesday, the day we were supposed to leave.  It's for some Task Force case; not one of hers.  That's why she has no control over when it goes down.  But apparently they need her because she's the expert on something they're looking for; her Boss is insisting she be on the search team.

She was on a break from an ops meeting so she could only talk for a minute.  She of course can't tell me any details, but she must have said 20 times how sorry she was.  She said she knows I'm disappointed and promised she'll make it up to me somehow.  I asked her if I can just push the trip back until next week and she said she doesn't know.  Apparently this is some big fucking deal and it may even spill over into next week.

I know it's not her fault but Goddammit, why did Cate even go back to work this morning?  She should have taken the extra week off -- she has the vacation time.  She said she needed to go in today & tomorrow just to check up on her cases, then she'd be able to focus on us the rest of this week.  Yeah, not now.  Now she's gonna be focusing on some fuckwad criminal and evidence and warrants and lawyers.  Instead of on me, on us.

I hate her fucking job.

Now what the fuck am I supposed to do all week?  The kids are in school, I cleared my schedule to spend time with Cate.  Guess I'm supposed to just sit around, watch TV, go shopping?

Shit.  Guess I better make some calls and cancel some reservations.

6:00 pm
Kitchen

Sitting here at the island, staring at recipe on my iPad screen, trying to figure out where the fuck to begin.  May need another glass of wine to help my powers of deduction.  Or may have to break down and call Mom.

Planned to have a nice quiet lazy day today.  Get up, see Cate off to work, get in a workout, watch some TV, just hang out, spend a nice afternoon and evening with my wife.  That was the PLAN.  Of course it was shot to shit by mid-morning.

After Cate called with her bad news I spent the next couple hours in a foul mood.  I must have paced around this apartment a hundred times, muttering and scowling.  Finally I told myself to get the fuck over it, it's not Cate's fault.  So I took a deep breath, called and cancelled our reservations and flights, and vowed not to be pissy to her when she comes home.  She's not any happier about this than I am.

I didn't feel like going out, so I was a couch potato for awhile until I couldn't sit anymore.  A man can only watch so much CNN and ESPN for fuck's sake.  Then I practiced on my Tak for awhile, scribbled a few ideas for lyrics, but couldn't get in the mood to write.  Then I tried to read.  Couldn't concentrate.  So I got on the computer, dinked around on the internet for awhile, decided to update my iPod.

Christ, Cate has about 500 bootlegs in her iTunes folders.  Most of 'em are of me.  WTF is up with that?  I'll sing her anything she wants to hear, any time she wants to hear it.  Fuck, I'll sing when she DOESN'T want to hear it.  Guess even marriage can't completely take the FanGirl out of her, ha ha.

Finally I couldn't stand it anymore.  I knew I was hopeless when I started searching around for a toilet brush to clean our bathroom.  Not that it needed it -- well, my aim wasn't great but that's why we pay a cleaning service, right?  Ha ha.

Then Cate called again, on another break from another secret-squirrel meeting of some fucking sort, to tell me she won't be home until late.  She was all apologetic and I know she was worried I'd be pissed.  Well I was, but I didn't tell her that.  I just told her that was fine, I'm a big boy and can take care of myself and I have plenty to keep me busy.

Yeah, I'm a liar.  I was bored out of my fucking mind and I wanted my wife to come home and entertain me.  Christ, I'm worse than Romeo.  Play with me!!!!!!

So I slumped down on the couch again and flipped some more channels and came across Giada DeLaurentis.  Now there's a dish -- heh heh.  So I watched that hot little Italian Mama chop up some veggies and cook some pasta and the light bulb went on over my head -- AHA!  I'll cook dinner for Cate!  Have it waiting for her when she gets home!  We'll have a  nice bottle of wine, some pasta, then we'll snuggle on the couch and she can not tell me shit about her day, ha ha.

Lasagne can't be that hard, right?  Especially vegetarian lasagne.  No meat to cook, just veggies to chop.  I'm good with a knife.  I can slice up a zucchini pretty damned quick.

So I go look in the fridge and the pantry and discover we have no noodles, no tomatoes, no cheese, and nothing else that looks like it belongs in lasagne.  So being the brilliant husband I am I whip out my new iPad and Google Giada's lasagne recipe and head for the market.

I manage to locate all ingredients in a mere hour and ten minutes, and haul the bags back home.  Then I realize I forgot bread and flowers.  You can't have a proper Italian meal without bread and flowers, right?  So I went back out to the bakery and the flower stand, then came back and got started cleaning and chopping.  Got everything all laid out on the counter, all in nice little bowls just like Giada does on TV.  Then I dug out a pot to cook the noodles and a big dish for the lasagne.  And I have no fucking idea what to do next.

So I opened a bottle of wine.  Shit, this can't be that hard, right?

Cate will be home in about 2 hours or so -- plenty of time.  Just gotta follow the steps on the recipe.  That's why they write it down, right?  So idiot husbands like me can surprise their hard-working wives with a nice home-cooked meal?  It can't be that hard.  All those spices and stuff will make it taste just like the stuff at Nino's around the corner.  I'm fucking Italian.  I can DO this.

Maybe I better be wearing leather pants when she comes home, just in case.

8:45 pm
Kitchen

Shit.

Wife on way home, lasagne looks like soup.  Wine half gone, so is bread.

Dialing Nino's then going to put on leather pants.  Hope they still fit after half a bottle of wine and half a loaf of bread.