Bah and humbug.
Such are my sentiments on the darkest day of the year. Gosh, where do I begin? How about with a cry from the depth of my very soul:
"Someone, for the love of Pete, send my husband back to work!!!"
He was recently given the position of platoon sergeant. This is great and unexpected. But it doesn't start until January 4th and until that time, the only person my husband has available to whip into shape is yours truly.
Case in point: this morning. Now, since I wasn't naturally falling into a good rhythm, Keith decided it would be good just to impose one. A tenant of this rhythm is waking up at eight am.
Cue the lights:
Wife asleep in bed at five thirty, being woken up by husband expressing remorse for being hyper and exuberant night before, which kept her up past midnight. Wife mumbles acceptance of apology.
Husband heads off to work....
Wife woken up by husband pounding on the door and leaning on the doorbell just one hour later.
"I'm home for good!" cries husband, to his sleep walking and yet horrified wife. Husband then bursts into wide grin..."Just kidding!"
Wife drags her weary self back to bed. One hour later, she's woken by the bedroom door flung open, the lights flipped on and her husband barking at her that it's time to get up, get up, get up, get up! Rise and shine! Wakey wakey!
"Go away!" shouts wife, to no avail.
Husband leaves several minutes later, reluctantly, and with the threat that he will return in exactly eight minutes and if wife is not out of bed by then, he will absolutely tip her and the mattress over onto the floor.
"Just see if I won't," growls Staff Sergeant.
Wife drags her ass out of bed, washes face, brushes teeth and makes bed. Staff Sergeant returns to tell her that he is going back to work and wants good bye kisses.
And that was just this morning. I thought the weekend would never end.
Case in point: yesterday morning.
"What do you want to make me for lunch?" calls husband from couch.
"What time is it?" queries wife, startled, looking up from her coffee and reading. It's ten forty five. Oh well. "How about tuna fish?" she offers. "Or, we have bacon...how about BLTs?"
"How about both?" asked husband, excited.
"Fine, fine," agrees wife, who gets up to begin process of preparing two different lunches. She realizes the bacon is frozen and will have to be dethawed. She has yet to figure out how to use the dethawing option on the new microwave and knows that she will end up half cooking the bacon, but there's no use, in it goes.
She opens cans, slices tomatoes, checks on bacon, still manages to half cook it, and then begins the process of officially cooking it, five slices at a time. She gets out bread, mayo, baby spinach. She assembles one tuna sandwich the way husband prefers: with nothing but mayo.
She hands over said sandwich to reclining husband and returns to the kitchen, where she prepares to chop a small pickle for her own tuna sandwich.
"This is the worst sandwich I've ever had," husband calls to her from couch. "If I weren't so hungry, I wouldn't even eat it."
Wife pauses and wonders what response she should give to this little gem. "That's because there's nothing on it," she offers, eventually. "I offered to dress it up for you."
The BLT sandwich she soon presents him with gets his full approval. "This is the best sandwich I've ever had. Seriously. The best sandwich. Can I have another?"
She gives him the next one and then finishes her own tuna sandwich, with pickle, onion and cilantro, baby spinach and tomato. Husband tastes it and likes it so much that he then wants the rest of that sandwich. Wife, knowing she is going to have a BLT, gives him the rest of her tuna and goes in to finish her next sandwich.
Husband eyes her BLT from his couch when she emerges from the kitchen, but wife defends her bacon by glaring at him. After she has eaten, wife gets up to begin cleaning the wreck of kitchen, while husband snuggles back down into the couch.
End scene.
And that was just lunch. This house does not suit us. Before, Keith had the entire two and a half car garage as his castle, his domain. He spent hours in there, doing what exactly I have no idea. But content.
Now, he has his man room and it's just not the same. The only thing he can do in the man room is watch TV or play video games. There's only so much of that an average human can take in one day.
Before, he had work to take some of the energy out of him. But since August all we have had is moving, block leave and half days. That is a ton of free time. That is three months more of free time than any couple should have to handle.
Normally, I love cooking, cleaning, preparing food. Normally, I wake up at eight thirty, ready to begin the day. Normally, Keith came home for lunch or breakfast and then disappeared again until dinner. This delightful schedule gave me time to get stuff done, find my center, and be productive in many different ways, from writing to dusting. Most importantly, it engendered appreciation for the returning husband, weary from work and pleasure in presenting him with clean house and hot food, fait accompli.
However, nothing is normal anymore. He comes, he goes. Mostly he stays. And when he stays, he needs to be fed and entertained, all day long. He pays close attention to everything I do and tells me I should be doing it another way, or not at all, or a lot more of it.
I think he's jumpy about his new job; he's a young platoon sergeant and will be supervising other men his own rank, some of whom will be older. He's the kind of guy that wants to dive headfirst into any challenge and beat it into submission with the force of his will.
It makes him an excellent NCO. And normally, I find this John Wayne-esce masculinity very attractive; in fact, I still do. I just wish it weren't so focused on me twenty four seven, thank you very much. Just in case anyone wonders, by the way, of course I am incredibly grateful that he's here with me, even if he's annoying the very stuffing out of me, than away Over There. It's just not even a question.
We have the rest of this Christmas week to finish up, visits to family and then another week. Heaven help me. At least from here on out, the days will begin to grow longer. And we figured out the gift situation and the Christmas party situation. And I have sugar cookie dough waiting for me in the fridge, with brand new cookie cutters.
I bought those at the enchanting all purpose store I blogged about a little while back. Love that store; the cashier remembered me. Also, I think they remembered me at the grocery store as well and the matronly cashier there set me up with a store card.
"We all can use a little extra savings," she said warmly, woman to woman.
"Isn't that the truth!" I agreed, grinning.
I must away, to dethaw ground beef for a Mexican dinner day and to begin Christmas cookie therapy while my husband is away at work. Oh, blissful serenity!
