Where do I start?
Let's start with this: I seem to have developed tendinitis in my left foot from the running. I know, I know--you all saw it coming, I totally overdo everything I try. Fine. Shut up already.
So I'm sidelined. I'm taking a few weeks off of physical activity. (Omigosh--it was all I could do not to buy a mini trampoline so I can still get a cardio workout but with super low impact . . . ) I'm using anti-inflammatories and icing, stretching, blah, blah, blah, whatever.
Hubby's back--2 years out from diskectomy--is still not great. His strength and stamina are embarrassing compared to his former life. So sad. Now that he is no longer under the care of his physical therapist, it's up to him to continue with regular exercise. As anyone who has ever tried to motivate themselves to exercise regularly knows, it's tough to get going and keep going.
The wife is the last line of defense for any married man. Or, more accurately, the nagging wife is the last line of defense.
I hate to nag. I really do.
"Have you gone for your walk today?" I ask--trying really hard to say it only once and hoping he'll take it as the gentle reminder it's meant to be. "I don't want to henpeck you, but we both know how important this is."
This morning, in the interest of helping him, I didn't remind him about the walk. I put on my shoes and asked if he'd like me to come with him so he wouldn't be bored. See how I was being all self sacrificing and martyrish for his sake? That's right--Wife of the Year.
"I need to remember to take my anti-inflammatory when we get back," he said on our way home.
"I do too," I agreed, "and I need to ice my foot for awhile." At this point I hinted around about how great it would be if I had a MacBook Air so I could accomplish great things while lying on the couch icing instead of just reading a stupid old book. He grunted at me. But I digress . ..
As soon as we walked through the door, Hubby sat down at the computer. Dammit. Now I have to get on him about taking his stupid drugs.
Hubby is in the middle of a car project that will eventually bring in some nice coin. He's doing research on engine parts. He asks me how to spell the name of a company he wants to look into. I start with the first few letters and he guesses at the rest, only he hasn't stopped to think about it and his spelling makes no sense whatsoever. And I'm reminded of something.
"You know how you make fun of people who can't diagnose and fix their own cars or who can't automatically calculate their house payment + insurance the way you can?" I ask in an accusing tone. Shrewlike. Bitchy wifelike.
"Umm, yeah?" he answers uncomfortably.
"It's because their brains aren't wired for that kind of thinking, just like your brain isn't wired for the logic of spelling. You've tried and tried but there's nothing you can do about it--you can't spell and it's never going to happen. That's how it is for other people only with cars and finances. So remember that the next time you start to make fun of someone."
"I thought you weren't going to nag me today," is his answer.
"That wasn't nagging. That was lecturing. It's different."
Yeah. Maybe we need not to be together quite so much.