Mrs. Nitmos and I are heading out of town for a little R ‘n R before the next round of kids’ weekend games kick in (get it?) Weekend “free” time is extremely limited in our family life so it must be taken advantage of when the opportunity presents. We are disappearing to my ancestral homeland where we’ll encounter a winter festival that, for some reason, celebrates this sickening collection of frozen water, as well as locally cultivated wine, fine foods, jetted tubs, and general NO KIDS alone time. In other words, there will be ROMANCE.UP.THE.ASS. (that’s not what I meant, sickos.)
Though we’ve been married for over 16 years now, I don’t take Mrs. Nitmos for granted. However, when I go through the trouble to rent a hotel room…when I make sure that hotel room houses a delightfully large whirlpool…when I ensure an adequate supply of booze and other goodies are on hand…when I predetermine restaurant selections to fill a hungry gullet with delicious steaks and seafood…a fella expects a little something in return, you know? I fed you, bathed you, housed you, drunked you…now, here we are alone in this room. What now? I’m not being a chauvinistic pig when I suggest that there is a certain IMPLICATION there, no?
I would never demand or insist. I’m not uncouth. There will be no Tina-Ike situation. Nothing bad will probably happen. The warm, swirling waters of the tub may suddenly disappear down the drain…the booze may get locked in a high cabinet (at least, higher than a 5’3” person can reach)…and maybe Burger King will be just fine for dinner, you know what I’m saying? We all make choices. I’m not demanding…but there is an implication.
I’ve crammed a full week’s worth of runs into four days to make sure the entire weekend is free. Mrs. Nitmos will have my undivided attention. We should have a great time as we always do when wandering about aimlessly during a few days with no plans or schedule. It’s carefree. It’s fun. It’s stress-free.
Well, not entirely stress-free. There’s an implication hanging in the air. It’s like prom all over again.
Regarding yesterday’s post, a few of you voiced your doubts that I actually blacked out while on the treadmill and then woke up seated in a folding chair wearing a slutty nurse’s uniform. Uh, you’ll need to explain to me what part of that was not plausible? Everything you read here is entirely true. My blog posts are dipped in truth and presented to you with truthy sweetness dripping off it like so much honey. Are you going to believe me or your lying brain? HATERZ gonna hate, I guess.
Special thanks to It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia ("The Gang Buys a Boat") for this implication.