Over thirteen years ago my husband and I met. He’d gotten into dot-com and had just been dot-bombed. The board of a 60 person corporation met and left their agenda on a white board for all staff to see. The final item was lay off 1/3 of the staff.
Of course he was one of the last 20 hired so he hung around a couple of weeks, looking for work, but knew it was unlikely to find as fellow dot-coms were sinking as well. That’s when we met.
Two weeks later I visited his “man cave” knowing he’d have to go back to family to reassess his opportunities. I immediately ended the clean pile/dirty pile laundry “system” and washed and dried and organized everything. Come on, the only things in his frig were individually wrapped string cheese and a 72 oz. Dr. Pepper. The freezer held one store-bought microwave lasagne left by his mother three months earlier.
Yes, the string cheese wrappers were on the rug from the frig to his home-built dual-brained computer, in front of blackout shades because the man cave was five feet from the mail boxes looking out on a parking lot and he liked to work in his underwear.
A few days later I helped him pack, everything was organized so it was easy. Then after he left me forever I paid money I didn’t have to give for maid service so he’d receive his deposit. He returned to me in two weeks with a job in town. When a neighbor asked why he came back, my husband of nearly 12 years said, “her.”
We now have views wherever we live, nice furniture and artworks, and have been able to keep a dog alive and happy for nearly eleven years. Plants, not so much.
As we hit another crossroads I must say that I went on strike shortly after we moved in. My husband was urged to take the larger place and move all of our furnishings out of three years in storage halfway across the country. Shortly after we moved in, things changed but that’s another story.
He is in a good situation and I am emptying boxes and discarding, donating, storing or shredding. Also taking art off the floor, that has been covered in towels, and placing it on the walls.
He says I’m “nesting.” I say I’m getting stuff off the floor. What I see, I can pack. Same as 13 years ago when I helped you move away from me forever, but now we’re married.
Two pieces have made me at home during his absence due to a contract in another state. Ten years ago I was told about a consignment store in Texas and looked at a piece of furniture that might have been suitable for bedroom or dining room. I opened the top drawer to see if the joints were dovetailed and lo and behold, there are two lithographs of Tuscan sites. Two dollars a piece. I took them home immediately, the lithos, not the furniture. A $4 find.
After $250 of matting and framing as of last week they are on the wall next to our bed. Two years with a white primer-ed wall, several months without a husband and they close the room in a bit and make me feel safe.
Tonight my husband made sure I have reservations at a hotel en route to see him and his family for Thanksgiving. I’m bringing a lot of food and gifts and looking forward to seeing everyone. Dog Zoe has an excellent sitter, and my standards for her care are high. I expect that she’ll come to the door, turn around and lie down and mumble, “Glad you’re home, Mom, I’m going to nap now.” That’s how my grandfather would have said “Yeah, I missed you but had a great time.”
Lots of stuff to do before I hit the road and my hotel. Dog food, cleaning, packing, dog bath, remembering all the frozen food. And loading the car without the dog knowing I’m leaving. Hmmmm. Any ideas? Cheers and Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours. Dee
Cooking with Dee 