He’s watching some football game on his phone, and I’m thankful the game is not on network TV so that I don’t have to watch/listen to it. I’m stretched out on the couch, wrapped in a fleece blanket, happily reading in a silent house.
So, we both get what we want — he watches the game, I get to read. Win-win.
Once he sits down, I immediately stick my feet on his lap like I have almost every night for 25+ years now. And, he rubs my feet like he has almost every night for 25+ years now. I never reciprocate and he never complains, out loud anyway. Sometimes he tries to ignore me/my feet, but then I’ll wiggle them and he usually gives in. Unless we’re fighting. And, his refusing to rub my feet = we’re fighting.
I’m a spoiled wife in a lot of ways. I refuse to wash or fold the whites. I don’t why, I just hate them. I have never mowed a lawn or operated a snowblower and I have zero intention of ever doing so. I haven’t mopped or cleaned the shower or ironed anything in decades.These are all things he is better at and/or doesn’t hate as much as I do, so he does them.
I do plenty, of course. I bring home half (OK, 40 percent-ish) of the household income. I pay the bills/handle finances, do the grocery shopping and nearly every other form of shopping. I’m the household IT person. I handle all the gardening and family stuff. I feed most of the animals/fish. I keep the family schedule and make sure everyone follows it. School stuff is exclusively my domain.
Some stuff we share — cooking, cleaning, laundry, parenting and running kids around (back when we had to), etc.
He is kind and patient. Takes more calls from my mother than I do. He’ll drop everything to help a family or friend or go to a gathering (sometimes much to my annoyance). He asks me about my day every day.
He’s gotten slightly grumpier in his old age while I’ve become less willing to argue about stupid stuff. I just don’t care anymore. You know, it’s the old: Do you want to be right, or do you want to be happy?
Mostly I just want peace. So I let a lot of stuff slide now. Things I might once have argued about or insisted he see my way. I just think: Meh, what does it matter?
The older I get the less I know anyway. I knew it all when I was thirty. Not so much now, twenty years later.
But, I do know this for sure: Marry the nice guy who will rub your feet for 25+ years and wants to take care of you (even if you are perfectly capable of taking care of yourself).
About Just Write: Just Write is my adaptation of free writing, a technique in which a person writes continuously and quickly with little regard for spelling, grammar, or topic. It helps writers overcome blocks of apathy and explore everything from meaningful topics to mundane observations with the same effort and without the pressure of crafting perfect prose. I just start writing.