By far, the most wonderful thing about having Husband home lately has been the extra quality time. Seriously, we’re snuggling and talking more and bonding and really enjoying each other’s company in a way that reassures me that we won’t be one of those couples who suddenly realizes they’ve nothing in common once the kids move out. Which is good, because we’ve only got the one and he’s moving out soon and I’m dead set against having another just to save the marriage.
My second favorite thing about having him around is that he’s near at hand when something needs fixing, adjusting, or when I need an opinion. He doesn’t get a preview of blog entries,* but I do borrow his eye on NEM posts. Which, naturally, comes with some… fatigue.
ME: Come look?
HIM: At what?
ME: A NEM… I promise, this one’s not haulocaust-y
HIM: Okay… looks good.
ME: Well… I mean, it is. Shit. I forgot.
ME: (points at author)**
ME: I’m sorry! I tried!
Easily the most frustrating thing about having Husband home all the time has been the fact that he’s him, here, all the time. You see the problem? I’m living in a paradox where the man I love very most in the whole wide world is also the man who winds me up like those chattering teeth and leaves me snapping at nothing while he laughs and wanders off to make himself a sandwich. And I can’t even stay mad at him, because it’s the same stuff that I love, you know?
You don’t know. Fine, watch this:
ME: (struggling) What is wrong with me? Why can’t I open things?
HIM: (comes over, takes conditioner bottle with confusing twisty pump from my hands, twists until it pops up) You just do that.
ME: … I was turning the other way.
HIM: (condescendingly) Lefty loosey…
ME: Shut up. Nobody asked you.
HIM: You literally just did.
ME: Get out!
ME: Can you grab me a shower cap?
HIM: (opens random cabinet)
ME: You just got one earlier, you know where these are.
HIM: (defensively) It’s behind a door.
ME: Ah, so you aren’t actually a magical, grown-up, know-everything…
HIM: Person who can open bottles?
ME: NOBODY ASKED YOU!
Still, all in all I do have more fun with him than without him. I mean, if I were home alone, I’d just be talking to myself – which is fine, I do that all the time – and arguing with myself (again, same). But I’d probably also be stuck flirting with myself. Which could get weird. Better that he’s available for that, too, don’t you think?
ME: Your fly is down.
HIM: I haven’t put my shirt on yet. I’ll put that on, and then zip up.
ME: You should zip up now.
HIM: (shakes head)
ME: Your fly is down, and anyone could just come along and give you a hand job.
HIM: Not anyone.
ME: Yeah-huh, see? (demonstrates)
That’s exactly the sort of thing I’m pretty sure they won’t let us get away with if he goes back to the office.
* Never ask an engineer to preview nonfiction. Just… don’t. If you’ve ever known one, you’re nodding along right now; if you haven’t, you’ve dodged a bullet that could accurately be labeled Technically True Details That Absolutely 100% Don’t Matter Even A Little Bit.
** Spoiler alert!