No one wants the truth, not really. "I sat home, looking at the laundry to be done, fended off the dog who doesn't get the attention he really needs because his father came in at 4a and had to be on his part-time at 2p so that he can earn a bit more since the salary isn't what you might call generous. I pondered yet again the meal I would make once I finished cleaning up the dirty dishes. And - oh, yeah - mowed the lawn in the parts that aren't dead from drought and my lack of interest in watering...and did it because he's not going to choose that over sleeping."
Instead, I just give that small smile and say, "Quiet - it was nice and quiet..." And so it was, mostly. Ignoring the above, of course. Which is what I do best, sometimes - ignore what needs doing to do what feels better. Like this...
A friend is a fan of pink - as in fanatic - and asked for a kitty hat. This is a popular pattern in the knitting world (and yes, there is one. I was equally surprised.) and I will shortly be adding on the cat ears (to be filled in with the most gorgeous pink mohair yarn that has a glittery strand running throughout), and then the little ear flaps and strings.
The knitting is relaxing and - yes - quiet. I am not good enough to do it and anything else, really. It is a mindless entertainment that results in a useful end product.
But I will admit that, as Trooper went off to work, I looked around at the chores that needed tending with not a little irritation. It is, after all, a bit like being single. With twice the laundry and dishes. Nearly every chore is mine to do. (Are you getting the theme here today?) Every meal mine to prepare. Every run to the grocery? Yep, mine. And the worst part is that there really isn't much to be done about it. He can't stop anywhere on-duty. No way for him to get that gallon of milk for me. And so I get pissy about it.
But it was Brigid reminded me today of the counterpoint to all of that hausfrau bullshit.
Yep. I may tire of feeling like a scullery maid but that's only because I married a real man. He isn't above doing any of the above tasks. Not at all. He's just busy doing all of those other things that have to be cared for. Sometimes it's hard to see them - they aren't always as obvious and tangible as clean underwear.
So I'll put on my apron, I suppose, and get to work. Because he's just a little busy taking care of the non-distaff side of life. And I don't think I'd want it any other way.