Empty

I got home from football practice yesterday and received some rather bad news. The Wife and The Son would be leaving today for her grandfather's place an hour north. Pop-Pop, as he's called, is down in the dumps. His health isn't good, and he needed a pick up. So The Wife is taking The Son over to see him for a couple of days.

I agreed with the call; I love Pop-Pop too. Especially when he wears the super-duper headphones that are hooked up to the TV. He turns on FoxNews and spends hours screaming at every commentator or guest with which he disagrees, with no regard for how loud he is talking. That becomes more fun the more he objects and the more he drinks because the language gets more colorful and moms are running to cover their kids' ears. Good times. Pop-Pop is also a hockey fan, which means he sits about a foot from the TV and absorbs New Jersey Devils games like the girl in Poltergiest.

So now my house is going to be empty. Back before we had The Son, my wife being gone for two nights was a cause for celebration... for a couple of hours. I'd watch all my sci-fi, action and western movies that she hates; I'd fire up some cheeseburger macaroni Hamburger Helper; I'd lay around in my underwear with a beer in one hand and the remote in the other. And then I'd get bored. And lonely. And sad.

Now, it's doubly as bad. The Son is going to be gone too. I do have football practice till 8 pm each night, but it's not the same. So, if you have any ideas on what to do to keep myself entertained, please feel free to share. Until then, if you will excuse me, I have a date with Bruce Willis and a talking white glove.