Being the good wife that I pretend to be, I accomplish a few of the many tasks to keep him company. Or sane.
Unsure whether I'd remember everything "we" did together over the Memorial Day weekend (his part being 80/ mine 20), I took pictures. Mind you, he thinks taking pictures of working is silly, so I never let on that I was taking them. The only reason I photographed my work is because I need accountability. If I start a job, it will not necessarily get finished unless I decide I'll blog about it. In that case, I gotta have before and after shots. Tell me I'm not alone.
Our Memorial Day weekend consisted of:
Him tilling a garden, while the boy and his dog supervised.
The boy was too hot in the dark shirt, so he changed into a white one. Like father ,like son.
When the boy and dog clocked out, "Adam" planted the garden alone. It is not good for man to be alone...
so he called for the woman God gave him and said, "Eve, could you draw a diagram of the garden so we remember where stuff was planted?"
"Sure," said Eve, from the comfort of the deck overlooking Eden.
After watering the new plants, he watered the dog. I think shampoo was involved as well.
I organized the garage pantry that started out like this:
And ended up like this:
I was "on a roll" so decided to keep at it indoors. Or maybe I was desperately seeking cooler environs and a class of ice water with lemon.
The kitchen panty that started out like this:
ended up like this. (My favorite part is making new labels. Life's little thrills.)
The lazy Susan called out, "Don't forget me! Hey! Over here! Put me in order, too, please!"
Doesn't your lazy Susan talk to you?
First one section...
and then another.
After all my thinking, sorting, cleaning, labeling, and admiring my achievement with smug satisfaction, I was "spent." Done. Kaput. Wiped out.
A good Saturday of hard work deserves a good Sunday full of rest and ease, right?
Right. Church, lunch out, nap, Facebook, reading, whatever, all day and all evening was my plan.
But he had other plans.
Church, grilling burgers (his fun), a smidge of down time revolving sports on TV, and then he was back at it. When 8 pm came, so did his second wind. Or third or fourth .I lost count. He pulled out the Bissell and announced he wanted to steam clean all the carpets, so would I mind vacuuming the whole house first?
Hmm, let me think about that and get back to ya, honey.
I vacuumed against my will (Did I mention it was Sunday night, people? Not even God works on Sunday, ya know. But my husband is right when he reminds me that God's days go from sundown to sundown so technically this was a new day.)
So my work prepared the way for the ox-bull-man to steam clean all the carpets.
While he cleaned carpets, I washed dishes, folded laundry, and shopped online for master bathroom fixture. I tell ya, shopping can be exhausting. All those keystrokes.
Then came Monday, and while some people were out having fun in the sun, others detailed their car.
"Wax on, wax off." I didn't get a good shot of him doing that. If I'd gotten close enough for a good shot, I would've been within earshot and I didn't want to hear what was next on his list.
No one is exempt from work, even if it technically a holiday and one is off school.
Our youngest Windexed because, as I tell him, "You're so good at it." (He used to believe that was the sole reason, but now he's "onto me." Flattery has its limits.)
Back to the him who seems to know no limits to work... I will simply list what else was on his list:
paint the trim in the kids' bathroom:
He was really cute at Home Depot as he picked out tomato plants--more tomatoes after he had planted the free ones we got from a wonderful man in our church who loves to grow plants to give away. Why was that cute? Because he doesn't even like tomatoes except in salsa. "How about this pink and purple one, Zo?" he asks. "It'll mess up your diagram, but I think it's cool. It'd make cool looking salsa." Yes, Pablo, that it would.
"A pinkish purple tomato?" I ask. "I guess I can make some Pinkish Purple Salsa."
After all, isn't that what everyone does with time on their hands?