I kid about Sandy but I know you know that’s all it is. She does so many tasks around here that I don’t get around to because I’m writing and don’t want to have my concentration broken. Examples: I rarely answer the telephone, so she does. I literally never make reservations when we’re going somewhere, so she does. I never pay household bills. She does. If I need airline tickets, Sandy looks for best times, best prices, and buys them. If I need a new shirt, it appears in my closet though some sort of magic. Or else Sandy’s doing it. Wrinkles in my shirts suddenly disappear via the same mysterious process. Weeds also disappear from our patio. I have no clue how that happens. Only yesterday she bothered my concentration with the sound of her shop vac on the patio.
Last week part of a hackberry tree in our back yard fell over. It had been trying not to die for a while but finally gave in to illness and wind. I looked at it with sadness. Sandy looked at it with sadness, too, but also started making phone calls. This week we’ve had four firms come to the house to make bids. The high bid was six times more than the lowest one. Sandy came home from work or stayed home from work to meet and talk with each one. I was busy writing.
Did I mention that Sandy manages our gift store and works there five or six days a week? Of course I do my part. I stop by on Wednesdays at noon for twenty or thirty minutes to do some back office work. Exhausting. Sandy also did all these things during her career as a high school guidance counselor. She was a dynamite counselor! I can’t take her anywhere without being bothered by her fans when I’m trying to concentrate on a story in my head. She’s inconsiderate that way.
Well . . . I wasn’t sure you were aware of some of the things I have to put up with around here. I look forward to your sympathy. From time to time it occurs to me to thank my wife for saying, “Yes.” I think she has earned that.
P.S. Honey, I love you.