My beloved has been on
“holidays” since last Friday at 2:31pm. He’s always called this booked time off
work holidays as opposed to vacation. I’m not really sure why. And
holidays always begin immediately after the clock has been punched on
that final day.
We hadn’t planned to go
anywhere this time. He decided to have a “staycation” and that was more than
fine with me. I’ve be writing a bit slower than I like lately, and it just so
happened that his last day was the same day I learned I had a deadline for
submitting my work-in-progress, and that deadline is fast
approaching.
David’s ideal staycation
consists of completing one, maybe two jobs around the house, having a couple of
excursions out, and a whole lot of reading and relaxing. Well, today is hump
day, and so far, so good. I can report that we are both reasonably content and
happy, which means he’s meeting his objectives and not interfering with
mine.
He’s counting down the months
to retirement. At the end of June, I believe he will be down to 16 months to go.
He never believed he’d be looking forward to the end of his career in the
aggregate industry this eagerly. I attribute this attitude of his, an attitude
of joyful anticipation to being free from the place, to a couple of the “bosses”
he’s had in recent years. Not that either of them set out to destroy his ability
to draw pleasure from his job. That was just collateral damage caused by having
their eyes focused solely on themselves and their own goals, and the very real
lack they had when it came to people skills.
I used to get really angry just
thinking about that, and what they did so unthinkingly. But I’ve considered the
situation over a period of time, and I’ve come to the conclusion that they’re
still reasonably young men—and already some future karma bus has their names and
numbers and a ride on tap for them. I will leave the anger where it
belongs.
The first couple of days of
David’s staycation were simply too hot outside for him to do anything. You know,
as timing goes with regard to some things, ours is stellar. We’ve lived on this
earth for more than 60 years without the luxury of central air. Now we have it,
and I thank God for it. Neither of us should venture out when it’s as hot as it
has been—him, because of COPD and me because of my ongoing heart issues—not to
mention my arthritis.
David has always been good with
tools. When cars were less complicated (in the days before computer chips) he
could fix our vehicle when necessary, doing everything from changing the oil to
replacing the brakes. He has a fair hand as a carpenter, too, and in the last
couple of years he’s laid a new floor in the kitchen and in the entrance
hallway. Yesterday, because it was cooler out, he built a small deck in the back
yard. It’s a simple structure, just a few inches off the ground, and the purpose
of it is to keep the outdoor grill off the ground, and to make the area look
tidier.
Today’s agenda involves
breakfast out. That’s our favorite meal of the day to enjoy at a restaurant.
Breakfast is comparatively inexpensive, and breakfast out together gives us a
nice start to the day. We don’t do that as much as we used to, a fact I
attribute to our getting older. It used to be important to us to eat out on a
regular basis. Now, I, for one, could care less. After breakfast, he has an
appointment with the people who supply him with his hearing aids, and I have
blood work to get done. How typically “old folks” of us! After that we’ll run
some other errands, and hopefully be home in time for an afternoon
nap.
The dog, of course, has to go
to the sitter’s while we’re gone—aka my daughter’s house. No longer able to be
left alone as he has severe being-alone anxiety, Tuffy nonetheless enjoys a
small break from us every bit as much as we enjoy that break from him. He loves
going over to our daughter’s house, because she has Chihuahuas, and they are his
great good buddies. He also loves coming home again.
And like us, he will be very
happy, once he has returned to our air conditioned house, to indulge in nap time
in the big comfy bed.
And since during the last
several days he’s had both of us all to himself, he’d likely even agree with his
daddy that holiday time is fine time, indeed.
Love,
Morgan
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