I become project-crazed. Determined to fit as much into those hours as possible and seeing a window to tweak and arrange things to my tastes without his man-input. Manput, if you will.
I remember hearing once about a mother who lifted a car when her baby was stuck underneath it. That's what I become like when home alone. Superhuman. I can lift couches with my pinkie fingers. Arrange whole rooms in an hour. And, in the case of this weekend, paint three coats of decking oil on hundreds of metres of timber, with a baby strapped into a carrier on my back.
There's still a lot to do, but we definitely made some good progress.