| First off, I'd like to apologize to all my listee's - apparently I can't access my notify list through CompuServe's browser, so IE5 is downloading as we speak. Hopefully by the time I'm ready to update with this entry I'll be able to *tell* you about it. We are in the midst of such exciting things as installing towel bars, and ceiling fans, and toilet paper holders. Funny how little things like that make a big difference as far as convenience and a sense of completion is concerned. Not that I particularly *minded* reaching behind me to the roll on the tank, or throwing the damp towels over the shower wall... It's so weird how Calvin gets stressed out when shopping for home accessories. Just thought I'd share that. We went to Bed, Bath and Beyond today to get some bath mats, shower rod/curtain/mats for Marie, and a holder thingy for our shampoo and stuff for our shower. With each minute that passed, Calvin got more and more disgusted with the whole process. "What about this, honey?"'s from me were met with "Grunt" from him. "How about this, dear?"'s were met with "It's ugly" from him. You see the trend, here. I've discovered that Calvin is a difficult beastie to satisfy, sometimes. The best way to deal with him is to just leave him alone. Which I'm doing right now. He's tackling putting mini-blinds on the french doors. A procedure not likely to improve his mood (he cursed for an hour about not being able to find a utility knife to get the stickers off the windows. When we finally tried by hand, it came right off with a modicum of scratching and some Windex. Such is the story of our lives - more time spent cursing than the time that would have been spent just *doing* the job). It's been so long since we've exercised any sort of normal routine that I forgot what our weekends used to be like. Saturday - make coffee, clean kitchen, start laundry, plan dinner menu's for the week, sweep/mop/vacuum floors. Sunday - make coffee, finish and put away laundry, go grocery shopping, clean the bathrooms, dust, de-clutter. This weekend was the first in months that I was able to follow this routine. If you'd asked me before what my opinion of it was, I probably wouldn't have had one. But now I'm finding that I actually *missed* it. I'm certifiable, I swear. With the resumption of normal life comes the resumption of role playing (modeling?) in the household. The relationship Calvin and I have is an old-fashioned one in some respects. He plays the "boy" role, and I play the "girl" role. He does all the things in the household that require putting together/screwing/hammering/fixing/painting/drilling (and through this whole HIPFH(tm), he's filled his quota for the next 10 years and is qualified to sit on his butt every Saturday and Sunday from here on out). I do all the things in the household that require cleaning/planning/organizing/cooking/appointment-making (which is, of course, a job that is never done). Which isn't to say that I don't sometimes put things together, and he doesn't sometimes clean something. It just became an unsaid understanding that there are some things that are my responsibility and some that are his. I don't remember ever sitting down and saying "Okay, I'll pay the bills, you take out the trash", we just kind of evolved into what we are today. The only beef I have is when I'm asked to make a phone call - "Call such-and-so and tell them this-and-that," (what, is your dialing finger broken?) or to make an appointment - "Get the truck into the shop on Monday," (the Yellow Pages are in the closet, dear) or be the events coordinator - "What are we doing this weekend? Tell the kids to hurry up," (your legs aren't broken, go up to their bedrooms and tell 'em yourself). It's just kind of assumed the little tedious details are my responsibility. If it has to be returned, I return it. If it's an errand to run, I run it. I guess it all comes down to it being expected that I'm the household administrator/secretary. I worked very hard to break out of that at *work* - it seems I'm stuck with it at home. It's pretty minor as far as aggravations go. We get along famously 99% of the time. And I know a myriad of things I do to annoy him - don't put things away in the same place twice, for instance (which is probably why the utility knife can't be found). Or leave two tablespoonfuls of milk in the bottom of my cup. Or don't treat everything he thinks as urgent with the same sense of urgency. I'm a lot more laid back, live-and-let-live, forgive-and-forget than he is, and sometimes it drives him crazy. He's very big on standing on principle, at all costs and to whatever end. I can agree with that, to a point, but when it outstrips my sense of logic or proportion, I can't jump on the bandwagon as easily. Wrenching back to the topic at hand - some of the old routines are coming back with the resumption of uninterrupted, GC-free life. Some new routines are surfacing, as well. Friday-night soaks in the tub together, for instance. Great for conversation - I'd almost forgotten what it was like to just sit facing each other and *talk*. Hanging out and playing pool when there's nothing good on TV - that's a good one. Friday night was a trip - we were playing disco, dancing around, drinking beer, and shooting a few games. Much cheaper than going out. Well, it will be in the long run, anyway. The pool table should pay itself off in, oh, five years. (Aside: I actually remember all the steps to the Macarena. And I taught Calvin how to do a line dance I learned in 8th grade, much to the amusement of Marie and one of her friends.) One odd thing about our new living arrangements is the fact that I can't simply *know* where everyone in the household is at any given moment. I have to go look for people. Calvin has taken to calling our bedroom and bathroom the "Northeast Wing". Ha, the place isn't *that* big - only about 2300 square feet. But when you're going to that from 1400 square feet, it seems very significant. It's very comfy to me. Room to spread out. Room to breathe. It's actually possible to be in a room where no one else is - until they come to find you, that is. That's important to me. I love my family to death, I really do, but it helps a lot to know that if I *need* privacy, I have a way to attain it. Perversely, now that I know I can have it, I don't need it as much. Figures. We're still trying to get used to our bedroom - it doesn't feel like *ours* yet. But I can tell it's only a matter of time before this house starts to feel like *home* again. New memories are necessary. I've discovered, especially as homesick as I can get sometimes, that it's not the place that makes a home, it's the memories. We've started some, and more will follow. I'm praying for more happy than sad, which I'm optimistic will happen. For all intents and purposes, Calvin and I are just getting started. We've been together two years last June, and OH MY LORD, the sheer *amount* of things - good and bad - that have happened in that short time. I look back on what my life was just two years ago, and it's drastically different (and much improved) now. I hope the trend continues. I intend it to. Yes, I know they say "The road to hell was paved with good intentions," to which I add "The road to heaven is paved with positive *actions*." |