So I am two thirds of the way done with my end of semester test taking. I’ve got a practical lab test on Monday, the first and after that, 141 is a wrap! Woo-woo! I feel like Gloria Gaynor, right now.

With all of this impending free time stretched out before me, I’m not really sure what I want to do first. It’s the same ol‘ story of girl works hard for the money – – -wait a minute – – I mean, woman works hard at all of the many hats she wears, woman get some free time to relax, woman must decide between sleeping, reading the pile o’ novels on the nightstand, finishing baby #2’s “crap-book”, doing Christmas cards, putting photos in an album, giving the house a good scrub, curling up with Kendall Jackson and a straw while watching the eighteen plus TV shows that have been saved to her TiVo, or just sitting quietly on the couch staring off into space and enjoying the mini fortress of solitude that she has created until it is time to pick up the children.

*Sigh* I think I’ll end up at the Y with some Netflix discs and call it good. I’ll probably need to do some preventative maintenance on the bod in preparation for all of the egg nog I plan to consume in the coming weeks — yum! Can I just tell you — and this is totally unrelated to how I plan to spend my time between the end of this semester and the beginning of next semester — about how my seasonal obsession with egg nog showed me what an outstanding man I have in DH?

So rewind about 8 years. I’m doing my own single lady thing, working, living in an apartment, yadda, bladda, blah. DH and I are dating, which means we alternate visiting one another on the week-ends. The timing of this is important to note because, as we all know, egg nog (or nog as it is affectionately called) miraculously appears in coolers and milk cases shortly before Thanksgiving and then, without so much as a “Peace out, homie” disappears by the first week-end of January. This particular week-end, must have been end of December, early January, DH came to visit me. We went out to dinner, did a movie, and were driving back to my apartment (where I was going to make up the couch for him to sleep on while I slept ALONE in my bed in my bedroom with the door locked *wink,wink*) and this overwhelming need for nog overcame me. I mean, I needed nog. BAD. If I had been Jazmine Sullivan, the lyrics would have mentioned nog, seriously.

DH, being the chivalrous and indulgent soul that he is drove me to several of the major grocery chains in the area, searched the refrigerator cases for nog, asked the store managers for nog, and came up empty handed. We tried every store that we could find that would have the slightest chance of having nog. As the hour grew later and later, my nog-session grew larger and larger, but the chances of getting it started to grow slim. We were about to call it a night, when we spied the glowing sign of High’s Convenience store up the road ahead. Now, I’m from the northeast originally. I’m familiar with things like Cumberland Farms, 7-11, Quik Stop, Wawa, CVS. I had NEVER heard of High’s and it looked like it had never heard of the 21st century. But, High’s had the nog!! I was so excited. We got home, and I don’t think I even took off my jacket before I just broke the seal and swigged a mouthful out of the container.

I turned to DH, who was staring at me like the looney toon I had become, and said, “I don’t think I can drink any more egg nog.” Talk about if looks could kill — I would have been dead where I stood. I’m sure there were a few, “Are you kidding me?” and other choice exchanges about how that one swallow pushed me over the edge. I was off the nog. . .until the next season.

So, I am no closer on pinpointing how to spend the next school-free weeks, but I do know that there will be some nog involved.