I have a great husband, he’s hard-working, funny, loyal and he helps out around the house from time to time. However. . .
. . . he cannot handle my doing something private/personal like reading, writing or blogging when he’s in the same room. He continually interrupts me with silly questions and comments — it’s like he can’t stand that I’m not paying attention to him. A very fundamental observation, I think. I try hard to just ignore his stomping about, his noisy thrashings, the sighs, the barrage of questions, but it’s not too long before I start feeling a tad guilty.
Now, that’s silly, isn’t it? Why should I feel guilty because my focus is elsewhere? Relationship quandary — still, after nearly 31 years of marriage! I do love him though — he’s buttering my toast as I write this ( and complaining about our piece of shit toaster.)
Breakfast was nice, but then. . .
. . . we got into a stupid argument about trees! He can’t stand anything that makes a ‘mess’. Trees, being what they are, create a mess — well, I don’t consider it a mess, he does — they’re just trees, they can’t help it. Life is messy, I said, to which he got angry because somehow that implied that I was saying he didn’t like ANY trees. Truth is, he doesn’t — he got rid of every single tree in our back yard so he could build a monstrous garage. Anyway, he’s cranky now, and I’m just annoyed. Some yard work on opposite sides of the house should correct that.
Don’t know what got into me last night. Started cleaning house — it’s been ignored because of all the yard work and other activities that have taken up my time — and before I knew what I was doing I was taking down the curtains in the kitchen and washing all the cupboards and walls! Trust me, those walls needed it, but all I was going to do was wipe the counters and wash the floors! So, now that I’ve started with one room, I’m going to have to do the rest. Ah, well, I’ve got the time, it’s just I’d much rather sit in a lounge chair with a book and a beer than wash walls.
And while we’re on the subject of reading . . . I haven’t done near as much of it as I wanted to. So far , this is what I’ve read: Beatrice and Virgil by Yann Martel, wonderful though disturbing book; The Fourth Hand by John Irving, typical Irving; The Independence of Miss Mary Bennett by Colleen McCullough,her interpretation of what happened to the sisters in Pride and Prejudice after they all(except Mary) got married. A nice summer read, a bit fluffy and fantastic, but it was great for the train ride to and from New York. Now, I’m reading The Full Cupboard of Life, by Alexander McCall Smith. He writes The No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency series, set in Botswana, Africa. this is book 4, I’m actually re-reading it, because I forgot where I left off in the series. I adore these stories. His characters are wonderful, the setting is amazing and he writes with an obvious love of Africa and its people. Highly recommend these books. Nice, fast read.
Well, I’m going to have to pull this to a close — it’s starting to get warm outside and I have lots to do.