Today I felt caught-up with housework and Life work.**
I barely knew how to handle that feeling.
I even stood awhile in the middle of the living room, all dazed-eyed, but then Tom and I watched more of LOST--lately we've traveled back to missed episodes, so many of them, that all night I dream about those LOST people. I awaken with their faces before me but, drats, I can never recall any of our island adventures. Probably we didn't even have any. Probably we just stand around and talk, for that's pretty much all I ever do in my dreams. (BOR-ing.)
Anyway, this being all caught-up with housework is one rare feeling during these five months of Tom's "temporary retirement." Usually I feel as though our floors are now treadmills, hard to step off because of all the extra work.
See, for all these decades Tom would drive off hi-ho, hi-ho to his job, work hard and then come home where I'd wait on him like a good little wife. He'd arrive home to a neat house, laundry done, tables dusted and then sit in his recliner. I'd carry a plate of dinner to him and a glass of water, milk or juice and turn down his bed, make sure his things were ready to go the next morning, again, after caring for the house all day.
I had my job, he had his. Our jobs were more defined and, well, even.
Well. After Tom got laid-off, there was ol' Debra, (often too busy to get out of her robe or brush her hair, even) still working hard inside the house (or shoveling snow outside) and carrying more plates than ever to Tom at his recliner and bringing him his blanket when he got cold, or various glasses of water when he called for them, not to mention his cell phone or copies of bills or a cough drop, a cat, a flashlight or a pickle.
Clearly, something was wrong with this picture. Especially now that I was bringing home a little bacon, myself, what with all my couponing, refunding, and my eternal online surveys which always require time and occasionally, brains. And especially since, according to Dr. Oz, sitting is the new smoking, and well, Tom had been sitting a lot.
So. Finally, before I keeled over or just continued not doing what God asks of me, personally, Tom and I had some 'little chats'. I explained that--during these days when he's home, like, all the time-- sometimes I will still bring things to his recliner, but other times I'll need him to get them himself. And instead of three meals a day, I will cook two and then he can heat up leftovers for dinner. Or make a peanut butter sandwich (we both are addicted to those).
And sometimes I'll carry his dishes out to the kitchen and place them in the dishwasher--other times I'd like him to do that. Same goes with making his bed, hanging up his robe on the hook or organizing his shelf beside his recliner. Sometimes I'll do it, other times I'll need his help.
Well. Something must be working because hey, as I said, today I experienced the luscious feeling of being caught-up. And our home's harmony is stronger. So never give-up! And never be afraid to ask for what you need. Even if you don't get all of it, you just may get some, and well, some is always better than none.
**Feeling caught-up and actually being caught-up can be two separate things. :)
This post was inspired by Sara's post here. She gave form to what were just some vague, wispy, disjointed thoughts and actions around my house and, after reading her post, this one began forming inside my brain. Thanks, Sara.