Working from home permits me to be a little lazy on my own time. Take today for example: I have things I should be doing - working on some graphics for my parents company; updating document templates with my new logo; walking the dog... all sorts of productive things that should be done. HOWEVER! The world won't fall apart without them being done so I've resigned myself to the fact that today will likely be a relatively unproductive day as I'm not feeling particularly well (my tummy hurts for no good reason and I don't want to dress like an adult because tight pants hurt so I'm sitting here in stretch pants and a not-so-baggy t-shirt, pouting). I do, however, have to muster up a bit of dignity before 5pm when I will be picked up by a colleague to head to a rather public networking event this evening. A big part of me wants to cancel. But I've paid $55 for the meeting and with my current income being what it is (or perhaps what it isn't) it's likely best that I get my money's worth (tight pants not withstanding...)
Getting back on topic: I work at home. Very little goes unnoticed in my house as a result. For example, I've learned that my darling Hubband, while very good at cleaning the bathroom, and painting the house, and maintaining our landscape, cannot, for the life of him, wipe the counters after he makes a mess (ahem... meal). In the grand scheme of things, much like my lackluster productivity level today, the world will not fall of its axis if he doesn't wipe the counters. However, it does irritate to no end.
So I grumble and pull out the sanitizing spray to wipe down the cutting board that appears to be stained with last nights pork loin marinade (yes, he cooks good food). And I grumble as I rip the paper towel off the roll. I mentally bitch at the fact that I'm left cleaning up after his mess (completely ignoring the fact that he worked a full day and then came home to cook me dinner while I continued to work on the computer). Cleaning done, I lumber over to the cupboard and grab the toaster (because I've decided to make myself some peanut butter and honey toast to ease my gurgling stomach) and I find the box of Honey Nut Cheerios that I assumed he had finished yesterday. He left one bowl-size portion for me. Turns out, he loves me! It also turns out, to my utter astonishment, that I'm perhaps slightly less justified in my opinion of the amount of work I do around the house than I had imagined I was.
Time to turn over a new leaf. Tomorrow.
Today I will continue with the mental self-flagellation for ever thinking an unkind thought about my darling Hubband and his house-keeping abilities, and I will move forward with the procrastination of just about everything on my to do list.
And Hubband, when you read this, if you did it by accident, and you just felt like plain Cheerios instead of Honey Nut Cheerios, please don't burst my bubble. I love you too!
Its because I love you. No one likes plain cheerios over honey-nut cheerios. If they say they do, they are lying.
ReplyDeletei'm so there with you on the self-pity party sometimes.. but yes, always remember, you've got quite a keeper in that hubband of yours ;). he makes a mean bleu-burger too!!
ReplyDeleteIt's the little things that say I love you. The declaration may not appear in flashing lights on a billboard, but that's okay. It's all the sweeter because of it. For the record, jars of marshmallow fluff say "I love you" just as well as yellow boxes do... :)
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