The other week my h-u-s-b-a-n-d stayed home on a Friday. What? Turns out his office closes every other Friday. What? But he's usually either out of town or so busy that he can't spare the day at home. What?
But on this day he's home working, and I'm home working and he seems happy enough and then he looks up, a little disoriented, and asks what time our daughter gets out of school. I tell him 2:15. Then he says,
Maybe I'll just go to a movie.
Now in all the nearly five years since my daughter started preschool, it has never once occurred to me to go to a movie during the daytime, during a weekday, when I could have stayed home and slaved like a worn-out washerwoman.
So I looked up at him dumbstruck and I thought, What is wrong with me? Why hasn't it ever occurred to me to enjoy myself on a Friday before 2:15? But what I said was,
You could clean the rain gutters.
Cleaning the rain gutters, like nearly everything I do around here, is a job I don't particularly like doing but a job I like to get done. In my first marriage, we paid someone to come around once a year and do the job for us. But that was before I took so seriously all those vows of worse and sickness and poorer. For all the years Ned and I have been together I've done the gutters on my own.
So he looked up at me and without even a sideways glance or a rolled eye, he said,
This is all I have to offer you. In a month when LA County has recorded about 55,000 inches of rainfall, he said OK, climbed up to the roof and rooted the mushy guck from the swollen gutters, and this is my testament, my only secret to a happy marriage.
We've plumb run out of fun with marriage this week. But you can still claim your chance to win an autographed copy of my book, Momma Zen: Walking the Crooked Path of Motherhood by leaving a comment on Monday's post. The winner will be drawn after 12 noon PST on Sunday, Feb. 3. Good luck!
4 hours ago