It’s quiet here. Almost too quiet, not that I’m complaining. So, ok, the house isn’t clean but the TV’s not blaring, there’s no footsteps thundering up and down the stairs or jumping off furniture, and no one is having a temper tantrum over losing at Command and Conquer. Again.

The Venomous Hubby and the Big-Eyed Boy are off for a father-son day fishing at a friend’s house, and that means I’ve got the place to myself. Why, it’s almost as good as being in a luxury hotel suite, albeit without the fresh flowers and room service.

This day to myself actually came as a surprise to me, and probably wouldn’t have happened at all if today weren’t the first in three weeks that the temps have been under 90 degrees. VH woke up determined to get out of the house for a few hours but since the pollen count is still high I have to stay home. At least, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it. Heh.

Now, you’re probably thinking to yourself, “Self, how come VK gets all the breaks?”

Let me assure you, this isn’t going to be a wholly carefree day. See, VH is headed over to Tony’s house — you remember Tony, don’t you, my war correspondent friend who served in Iraq and has been served by countless bartenders since?

Tony has the unusual fate of having a middle name that’s actually only one letter: D. I kid you not. As you can imagine, there have been quite a few conversations about just what that letter was supposed to stand for, and my two suggestions both end with the letter -k. Which explanation I prefer really depends on how many beers he’s talked my husband into having.

So that’s why it’s not an entirely carefree afternoon for me. See, it’s already started off with a reminder to VH that I’d rather have him stay at Tony’s than get a DUI. (Oh, OK, staying there would also mean I didn’t have to put up with snoring all night, but that wasn’t the reason for my suggestion). Not that I think VH isn’t capable of restraining his intake — it’s Tony whom I mostly have to worry about. He’s sneaky.

Last time VH did a great job sticking to three beers in six hours while Tony smoked a brisket and whipped up a few side dishes to go with it. Unfortunately, he didn’t warn VH ahead of time that the pan of lime Jell-o was actually one large Jell-o shot. (And, yes, when I learned about this I was suitably freaked out: my kid loves lime Jell-o almost as much as he loves the grape-flavored one, which Tony also made and told the kids was the only one they were allowed to eat.)

So now when VH tells me he’s going to Tony’s, I know it’s a good idea for me to go ahead and pack an overnight bag for both him and our son. I also know to call Tony’s wife and make sure she is fine with my guys staying over there if VH has too much to drink.

VH, meanwhile, assures me that he has no intention of drinking so much that he’ll need the service of a good DUI lawyer (which is a good thing since my son is also going to be in that car and few DUI lawyers don’t handle divorces, which is exactly what would occur if VH drove intoxicated with my son in the car). No, he plans to be home early — in time for dinner, even, he says.

Why? Because he wants to play golf tomorrow. He figures that after having today to myself, I won’t mind letting him have tomorrow to himself in return… and he’s right.

See, there’s a sale on at the mall tomorrow and I’d been looking for a reason to get out of the house and do a little shopping. Having my son tag along will actually be a big help since he’s now able to carry a bag or two, and if I throw in a new Transformers toy he’ll forget all about how much Mommy just spent on new shoes.

Hmmm… come to think of it, maybe you’re right: I do get all the breaks.