The hubs and I make a good team, some days. A lot of the time we are at odds, but when I’m flexible and he’s engaged I get a glimpse of the fully functional, tag-teaming couple we can be.
Yesterday was one of these days. He volunteered to stop by the grocery store after work, because he apparently saw how stressed I’ve been. Maybe he got a clue when I started ruminating aloud about running off with the circus. Anyway, he pretty much took care of dinner while I finished changing the water pump in my little car.
I’ve been feeling more tired than usual for a couple of days, but I started feeling really bad last night, around the time I put the tire back on the car. I celebrated the job’s completion till I sat back and looked around. Tools and trash everywhere. I knew I couldn’t leave it all out overnight so I pushed myself to put it into some semblance of order. By the end I couldn’t enjoy my success as my dragging ass was distracting me. Plus I knew I was going to have to clean up the kitchen later.
When I got into the house the hubs had already put all the food away, and all I had to do was put the last few dishes into the dishwasher. That is love to me. It’s not a feeling, it’s noticing when I need help and then helping me. Nothing gives me the warm-and-fuzzies more than when my husband volunteers to take some of the responsibility off my shoulders.