I Should Not Be Left Home Alone

P is away this week for a bachelor party in Tahoe.  He's having a great time, and I am so happy for him.  He needed a break from work and he deserves to have fun with his friends and not worry about home for a change!  However, I think once he finds out what's been going on, he's never going to leave me again.

I started off the week without P by dropping my phone in the toilet.  So Pete was on his first overnight, P was flying across the country and I was unable to be reached because my phone was sitting in a bag of rice.  I ended up having to get a new phone, which because I'm addicted to my iPhone, was not cheap.

Yesterday I was out running errands when I realized that I left my wallet at home.  I detoured home, pulled halfway up the driveway and ran into the house to grab my wallet.  I ran back to the car, put the key in the ignition and ...... nothing.  The car wouldn't start.  No matter what I did or how many times I tried.  Of course I park in the driveway we share with our neighbor.  And because I only pulled in halfway, she wouldn't be able to fit. So I had to put the car in neutral and push it up the driveway.  P's car was at the office, parked in a gated lot.  I tried to call the people he works with, but couldn't get ahold of anyone.  So I frantically called my friend Amanda, who picked Pete and I up and we went to Pat's office.  We waited for someone to leave the lot, I snuck in and as I'm running across the lot I hear, "hey, aren't you Laurie - P's wife?"  I wanted to say no, but of course said yes and then tried to play it cool that I was sprinting across the gated parking lot ... in the rain.  I get the car, stop at the store for either a bottle of wine or chocolate (I opted for M&M cookies) and head home. Where I discover that Bailey ate part of a plastic bag. I panic, but realize she is fine and google tells me it happens all the time, she'll poop it out.

So then I decide to check the mail and find this:

Really?  As if I'm not paranoid enough ... 

Great.  I hate being home alone as it is.  Most of the time it doesn't bother me, but I'm definitely more on edge at night, which in turn makes Bailey more on edge.  Which means she barks at the littlest thing, which then freaks me out more.  It's a good time in my house, I swear.

So today, I try and start the car again but no luck.  AAA comes to check it out, they assume it's the battery (despite me telling them it's not), they can't start it either so call for a tow truck and there goes my car:

Please come back soon car.  I miss you already.

So, I'm pretty excited for P to come home.  Nothing that happened was a big deal, but it seems magnified when you're the only one dealing with it.  I don't know how single moms do it - I give them so much credit and admire them so much.

And at the end of the day, this is the only thing that matters ... 

love that sweet face.  L.O.V.E.

Hopefully the luck o' the Irish is treating everyone else better!  But please tell me, does anyone else feel like sh!t hits the fan when they're home alone?  Or is it just me?