Much whining about nothing

13 11 2007

       I need a little space.

       Everywhere I look there is somebody!  At least during business hours I used to have a smidgen of privacy.  I could lock myself in my room and write or pray.  Now Neal is always in my bedroom typing on MY computer or talking on MY phone. 
       If I lay down on the couch to enjoy a little book & poptart break, Neal comes into the living room and looks at me.  (Why does it bother me so much to have someone watching me eat chocolate?  Does true chocolate appreciation demand privacy?)  I want to say, “WHAT?!?  What do you WANT?  Can’t you see I’m on break?”  Instead I modulate my voice to loving-wifely tones and say, “Do you want something, dear?”
          “What do you want me to do now?” He asks me.  Now, this bothers me on several levels.  For one thing, who died and appointed me activities director for the entire family?  I could understand the toddler needing to be amused, but by the time we have reached fifty years of age, supposedly we are independant, free-thinking adults!  Also, the implication is that he’s been slaving away doing my bidding all morning and now he has come to see if I have any last minute demands before he dares to take a break.  Since I know, as a matter of public record, that he’s been looking up football scores on the internet for the last 45 minutes, this only makes me want to throw a shoe at him.  
         I feel like one of my kids!  I want to yell, “Mom!  He’s breathing on me!”  Every time I sit down on my computer he’s left about six programs running simultaneously.  Copies of his resume, emails from recruiters, weather reports, real estate pages….   (In the early months, I was very careful not to touch anything that might be important.  Now I just recklessly close everything in sight.  It’s sort of like vacuuming up small toys I don’t care about- I didn’t leave them there, and I’m not going to bend over and pick them up!)  There are scraps of paper with phone numbers all over my desk, printouts spilling off the computer, watch, glasses, penknife, coins, receipts, and tiny bits of hardware on every surface..
         This computer desk was like my brain!  I did all my writing here.  I can type almost as fast as I can think.  It’s my way of communicating with the outside world.  When I got tired of cleaning the kitchen floor or watching my children drop cheerios down each other’s shirts, I could sneak up here and check my email. 
          Now every time I pick up the phone to call a friend, there’s a recruiter schmoozing with my husband.  All the calls are for HIM.  I have to beg to check my email and wait until he falls asleep at night to blog.  If inspirations strikes, it just has to take a number.  
        I sat down to work on my novel for a while this morning.  He threw me off the computer once to take a call from someone for a contract job.  Then he threw me off again to email something.  Then he came up to ask which door I wanted him to paint first.  I thought I was being very patient when I pointed out that as it was absolutely necessary to paint ALL the doors it didn’t make a lot of difference.  He became kind of frosty after that  and stayed away a while.   Then Donal came in crunching ice out of a flower vase (Are we out of cups or something?), threw himself on the bed and said, “Whatcha doing mom?”  Then the phone rang- another recruiter- and Neal threw me off the computer again.
        I gave up and painted the doors myself.

        I am going on record now to say that Neal will never…no never… not in ten years… not in twenty… will not ever…not even over my dead body…. retire.  




3 responses

13 11 2007

lol –

you know, you might want to rethink your next response to that whole, “what would you like me to do now?” question. you’re creative… c’mon!!! after that response one could only blame you for for your lack of computer time. 😀

13 11 2007

though, i’m sure your doors are fabulous…

13 11 2007

I had to read this out loud to Ed, who, as you know, has recently retired. Thanks Angela.

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