I don’t care how old you are, how tame you are or how domesticated you are (and BTW, if you’re thinking of a word here that ends in “whipped,” so am I). When a guy’s wife goes away, even if it’s just for a few days, life changes.

I speak from experience, as Liz left town Sunday to spend a few days with her mom and her sis celebrating their birthdays.

In her absence – and in lieu of actually doing anything productive – I made a short list of how thing are different when my wife travels. Guys, see how your list compares to mine.

Viewing habits

When she’s here: Downton Abbey, anything with Meryl Streep.

When she’s gone: Porn, kung fu movies, anything with Danny McBride (except porn).

Food

When she’s here: Lots of whole grains, plenty of fruit, wide variety of fresh, cooked-from-scratch vegetables.

When she’s gone: Canned asparagus, institutional-size frozen five-cheese lasagna (My motto: Cook once, eat for a week.).

Drink

When she’s here: Cold-brewed coffee, chamomile tea, flavored water.

When she’s gone: Espresso, Topo Chico, Red Bull smoothies.

Chores

When she’s here: Half the cooking, half the pet stuff, laundry, bathroom patrol, lawn.

When she’s gone: Flush toilet at least daily.

Exercise

When she’s here: Weightlifting with trainer three days a week; cardio another three days; yoga, seated meditation every day; walk the dog twice daily.

When she’s gone: Repeated walks to fridge, open door for dog (once out, once in), meditate on which kung fu movie to watch on Netflix.

Socializing

When she’s here: Dinner parties with friends, Thursday happy hours at the Lucky Lounge, theater, galleries, etc.

When she’s gone: Fuck socializing; I have Netflix.

Maintaining good habits is hard work (and by hard work, I mean impossible) for me; I really need the tempering influence of my spouse. So when she’s gone, I know resistance is futile and no longer resist – I just relax and slip easily into that men-are-just-bears-with-furniture zone.

The hardest thing for me is maintaining any semblance of a healthy diet. Eating right means cooking, and cooking means a lot of work. I used to enjoy all that work, but no more. So I get one of those institutional-sized frozen lasagnas from Costco – the kind they bring to your car on a forklift – and some canned asparagus, and I’m good for a week.

Monotonous? Sure it is, but so is standing up for hours every night cleaning, chopping, slicing and dicing veggies. That’s a huge chunk of your evening misspent – especially when you consider that you could be sitting on your ass watching Danny McBride movies and slamming pasta.

So guys, give yourselves a break. The next time your wife leaves you to your own devices, surrender to the inevitable: nuke a slab of Stouffer’s, flip on the big-screen, and get a taste of the Good Life.

You can thank me later.