08 June 2016

Things That Only I Can Do

I'll have you know that my position in this household is assured. I have job security. I am made aware of this regularly. Because there are things that only I can do in this house. I have hypothesized this formulated upon the following postulates:
  1. I am the only one who does them.
  2. My darling husband looks at me blankly when I mention them. 
  3. He actually tells me that he's waiting on me to do them. 
Ignore bad handwriting. And water spots on my bathroom sink.
And terrible photography.

But in all fairness, there are things that only he can do, too. Not because I'm incapable of doing them, necessarily, although that is the case regarding things that my current level of education/knowledge doesn't cover.

Like automobile repairs. I could probably learn how to do that stuff, but it's not my thing, and it is his thing. Sometimes it's because I'm forbidden to do them, on pain of stink eye.

For instance:

  • I am not allowed to take out the trash. I'm capable of this, and if it needs to be done, occasionally I'll do it just to get it done. But, and here's the really wonderful thing about my darling husband, I'm not allowed to. So I get the "that's my job" speech, while he gives me the stink eye, and takes the garbage can out of my hand and empties it. He actually prefers that I tell him that a trash can needs to be emptied, rather than emptying it myself. Isn't he a dream boat? 
  • I'm not allowed to mow the lawn. Or run the weedeater. Not because I can't do those activities. When I was single, I did them. Because they're in his domain. Not my problem. He doesn't want me doing those tasks. He doesn't even want me thinking about them. His domain. I am allowed to help with weeding, plant watering, etc., and occasionally, we'll do outdoor, lawn, or garden projects together. But he runs the yard. 
Getting back to the origin of this post, however, my job security as a housewife is not in question. (Not that it was ever going to be, anyway.) This is why.
  • Only I can purchase toilet paper. Way back in the day, when I was single, I got hooked on soft,
    three-ply toilet paper. I always preferred the extra-cushy stuff, but when I became an Amway IBO, I started using the brand they carried, and it was three-ply, pillowy softness. It came to my door on a regular basis, and I got in the habit of knowing it was there, not having to think about buying it. When we got married, I quickly got my new husband hooked on it, too. He didn't even know there was such a thing as three-ply, until I introduced him to it. Poor thing. 
    My new TP holder that my darling husband installed for me.
    It pivots on a hinge instead of doing the squeezy bar thing.
    I love it. 
    But then, Amway stopped carrying the paper products that I had become reliant upon. I found myself venturing into aisles of the store I hadn't traversed in years and wondering what was most similar to what we were accustomed to using. Through lots of trial and error, I finally found the toilet paper (and paper towels, napkins, etc.) that we are now using. Ordinarily, because he's still working full-time and I'm not, I do the shopping, but occasionally he will go with me. This week, that happened. He watched me, mystified, as I rooted around in the toilet paper aisle, finally coming up with a case that matched our preference of brand, type, and roll-size (mega-rolls don't fit on all our TP dispensers), and was budget-friendlier (because of the case size). I looked up and realized that if I was ever in a coma, he would be clueless about how to provide for the needs of his tushy. Clearly I need to educate this man. 
  • Only I can make doctor appointments. My darling husband tells me that the moment we were wed, his brain dumped all of the information and ability it had to locate new medical service providers, therefore, if I don't find him a doctor, he won't have one. We moved to Kansas from South Carolina almost a year and a half ago. We're due for checkups, dental cleanings, glasses prescription adjustments, etc. He claims complete ignorance (while calling it "delegation") of what to do to find these professionals. So, I'm finally getting around to doing that. We're still in a standoff over who makes the appointments, which I will explain. 
    • I, as you may know, occupy the far, hermit-end of the introvert spectrum. Talking on the phone is anathema, unless there is a really good reason to do so. Also, the really good reason must be on my end. Answering calls from numbers I don't recognize is the technological equivalent of picking up a hitchhiker. Now that I'm no longer required to answer by an employer, it's never gonna happen. Also, I keep my voicemail full, so that I don't have to worry about ever getting new messages and having to deal with them. I carry a smart phone. I text. I use it to google stuff so I don't have to actually converse with anyone. There are apps for all kinds of things. It is a phone call prevention device in my hand. I'm available via multiple routes on my phone that don't involve talking to anyone. YAY for technology! I need to find us doctors who allow appointment scheduling via website, app, or text. Hmmmm... Surely doctors do that now. Right?
    • He, as you may not know, will go to an appointment, if I make it. But he will not go out of his way to subject his body to regular maintenance. When we got married, I made appointments for him to have a medical checkup, an optometry appointment, and all of his dental care/prevention/and repair. He hadn't gotten around to these things for some time. I found the doctor. I found the optometrist. I found the dentist. I made the appointments. He went. The thing is that he has the schedule of meetings for his work, and I don't, so I'm going to use that as a reason for him to make his own phone calls. So there. 
Of course, he takes excellent care
of the yard.
I could continue about all of the activities that I prefer to do myself, like laundry (which is my favorite chore), and all the things that I like to do but aren't strictly necessary (insert art/craft of choice here), but you get the gist. There are, of course, all the necessary evils that we toss back and forth, along with applicable guilt-monkeys, like washing dishes, and the tasks that we each accept as assigned to one or the other, without having strong feelings about either way, and the tasks that we share, in the interest of mutual benefit. But some things are mine to do. Mine, and mine alone. Because only I can do them. 

Co-dependence is really working out for me.

Much love,

P. S. Of course, my darling husband is an adult, and he is perfectly capable of all of the tasks that are necessary for his life and maintaining a household. He did them for years before I was ever around. He just chooses to allow me to add value to his life. I don't mean to give the impression that he is a bumbling fool without his obnoxious wife keeping him going. He's amazing, talented, capable, generous, and kind. But he lets me think that I'm helping, and that makes me feel good. :)

06 June 2016

Word of the Week: EXULANSIS

Fortunately, it is the week (-ish) after one of my writers' conferences, since that type of thing rarely translates to the individuals who were not in attendance. That makes this word pretty perfect for where I am right now. I'm trying to crawl out of my recovery fog. It's time to try to be on top of silly little things like paying bills, answering emails, making doctor appointments, cleaning up my sewing disaster, etc. All those little demands that are placed upon us by life. You know what I mean. In the mean time, people keep asking questions like "how was your conference?" and "did you have a nice vacation?" -- but then their eyes glaze over when I attempt to give a real answer. Heh heh.

Much love,

This week's word is: EXULANSIS

Used in a sentence: Ellen looked around the dinner table at the polite, yet blank faces, and exulansis took over.