Wednesday, November 22, 2017

Wednesday's Words for November 22, 2017

The last week of my husband’s working life has arrived and so far, nothing is the way either one of us thought it would be. My beloved is counting down the days until Friday—but the first two days of this week he did so from home.

They had a sudden change of plans, and needed to fill an emergency order, the result of which, for Monday and Tuesday, there was nothing there for my beloved to do, as they suspended regular operations. They offered to bring him home on Monday, and to give him Tuesday off, and of course, he chose that rather than to stand around outside in the cold doing nothing for two days. So today, he’s back at it, and Friday will be his last day on the job.

I looked on his extra time at home as a blessing, because I had pulled a muscle in my left knee on Friday. It was nice having him here to help me out. Whenever my arthritis acts up, and I have even more pain than usual in my legs as a result, I try very hard not to just sit around. I try to keep moving, even if it is painful. I’ve found, however, that after a few decades, my tolerance for pain and my ability to keep a smile on my face and a bounce in my attitude are not what they once were. But life does go on.

David is really looking forward to next Monday. He told me he’s planning to get up with the alarm, so he can turn it off, and then go right back to bed. It’s something I’ve heard a lot of people adding to their wish lists—to finally “follow through” on what the working Joe or Joan would love to do when the alarm goes off in the morning, but of course they don’t because they have to get up and go to work.

For David, if he were to begin to set his alarm to get up at 6:30 in the morning once he’s retired that would be, in fact, sleeping in 2 hours from what he’s used to. He says he’d like to get up no later than 7:30, because he doesn’t want to waste the day.

That’s my preferred time to get up, too. I do haul my butt out of bed, even if I am tired. My reasoning is two-fold. First, by that time, I’m usually sore from being in bed so I really do need a change of position. Second, I know that if I continue being tired I can go into the living room, get into my recliner, and doze pretty much whenever I want to. My daytime priorities are my writing, and some housework. I make supper for us every day except Friday and Saturday. David doesn’t like to cook so I don’t ask him to or expect him to, it’s as simple as that. Last weekend when I was in so much pain, he heated microwave meals and soup—and that is the most “cooking” he’s done in the last couple of decades.

As it stands now, David plans to take the first week of the rest of his life, doing very little. He wants to enjoy the absolute freedom he’s accused me of having day in and day out, the freedom to do whatever he wants to do.

If he equates freedom with total inactivity, I’m pretty certain one week is all he’ll want to spend doing that. Though he is much more talented than I am when it comes to lounging about, I know he’ll become bored doing nothing for too long.

I need my routines, as trite as they may be, and my pattern of “multi-tasking”—mixing creative work with the physical, in order to keep my mind from stagnating and my body in some form of working order.

I’m thinking that before long, he’ll discover the very same thing is what he’ll need, too.


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