It is not good for man to be alone

I learned a valuable lesson a couple weeks ago. It was something that I already knew, but it was reiterated when my dear Amber left me with our sweet little Ashley and went down south to Springville, UT for a week. The lesson was simple and proven three times over during the five day period of Amber's absence: it is not good for man to be alone.

On Monday - around mid-day, while I was at work - the two most important ladies headed south for Utah county to stay with Amber's sister Stacy and her new daughter Sienna while Stacy's husband Serge was at a conference in Vegas. Amber and Stacy both claim that the reason for the trip was so that Amber could lend a hand to the new mother and offer support in Serge's absence. But, every time I spoke with Amber she sounded more happy with each call. My suspicions of enormously fun partying increased with each conversation.

What ever went on, I could tell that she was enjoying herself being so close to family for week.

My new independence found me walking in from work on Monday night to a dark and motionless home. After surveying my vacant surroundings I did what any guy would do in my situation. Popped in a Simpson's DVD and watched cartoons for two hours. When the disc was over I headed upstairs, probably thinking it was time for bed, but got side tracked by my old turntable.

I hadn't spun a record since before Ashley was born. Since no one was sleeping in the next room, I hooked that bad boy up to the stereo and cranked the sucker. While enjoying the tunes, I grew curious about how sound traveled in our new place. After some short exploring I found that the music could faintly be heard in the basement, but to my delight even less could be heard outside.

Like the Simpson's DVD, the record ended soon enough and I found myself surrounded by the loneliness of an empty house. Reluctantly, I prepared for bed. This routine includes downing various vitamins, one of which is a new horse pill that I had begun taking the week prior. At that moment I got the bright idea to cut said horse pill in half thinking it would swallow easier.

Taking a flat metal spatula that was already out on the counter I successfully split the and the skin on my left pinkie. Nothing major, just my first reminder that it was not good for man to be alone.

Wednesday evening brought my second reminder. Because I didn't like the feeling of being in an empty house I decided to stay at work until 7pm on Wednesday. While traveling home from campus through the rain mixed with snow that was being blown in all directions my umbrella decided it had had enough. It's functionality to fully open or close no longer existed. Some time during my struggle to get the umbrella to a manageably closed position somehow I sliced the meaty part of my left thumb.

I didn't noticed the cut on my hand for some time. But after I had been home several minutes something caught my eye and I was surprised by the discovery of a bloody wound. This one was slightly more serious than the previous injury of Monday night. But, I was the talk of the office with my coworkers laughing at the increasing number of band aids on my hand.

My final reminder that it was not good for man to be alone occurred the following evening - my last night as a bachelor. While preparing a delicious dinner of chicken fajitas I successfully chopped up an onion and thawed out the chicken. You'd think a former Subway Sandwich Artist would be able to slice a green pepper with out incident, but I was able to catch my right index finger with the slicer.

The instant pain told me that it was a bad cut. After soaking it under the faucet for a few minutes I turned my hand over to inspect the damage. One look at the wound and I said out loud, "yeah, that's stitches."

I called my buddy Joe - remember Amber had the car - and he gave me a ride to the hospital. When the nurse removed my bloody wad of paper towels she told me that I probably would not need stitches, because there was no skin to stitch. Our slicer is so good, that it lopped a small portion of my finger tip right off.

She dressed the wound and then told me that in the morning I should just put a band aid with neosporin on it. I then sheepishly asked, if I had just put neosporin and a band aid on it at home would I have been okay. She nodded her head. Joe did well to keep a straight face.

Looking down at my hacked up hands I was grateful that Amber and Ashley would be home in less than 24 hours. And, at least the house was in one piece.