I've returned to Planet Earth. I know you worried when you heard alien forces had come to collect all the beautiful, sexy people from Earth and I didn't say "good-bye."
Life attacked and it's been all I can do to tread water. My rubber ducky inner-tube is covered with patches and I just realized "Flipper" is a close cousin to "Jaws." Having eaten my weight in chocolate and Lays potato chips, I've grown to more than just a tasty morsel.
First, my husband has decided to retire. Then he decided not to. Then he filed his paperwork. Then he took it back. Now he's re-submitted it. Could have been the switchblade I held to his neck that made him finally commit. Now...we wait...to die, according to him. He considers retirement the last phase of life before death. Cheerful, ain't he? If his attitude continues to exude rays of sunshine, this "last phase" could come to an abrupt close much sooner than he's anticipating.
I know he's nervous. So am I. Having him around all the time watching my every move is going to cramp my style big time! I've already been "advised" my spending habits will have to be drastically curtailed - that we'll need to tighten our belts. I laughed out loud. I've got to get a belt around me first! And as far as "curtailing my spending" I told him we should start with groceries. I served him a pea for dinner. Told him to chew between bites so he'd feel fuller. He accused me of being a smart-ass. Moi? I'm also supposedly "selfish and unfeeling." I threatened to turn into the "Stepford Wife" he thinks he wants. I served breakfast with a smile and after he downed three bites, I informed him you can't taste arsenic. See? I care. I didn't have to tell him.
We discussed selling the house - "downsizing." I pointed elsewhere. There's already been signs of "downsizing." Survivor benefits has been another fun topic. If he goes first, supposedly I'll be rich enough to buy a palace. If I die first, he's screwed. Guess who's going first.
Second, I've decided to go on a diet...again. This never ends well. No Diet Coke, bread products, and practically no chocolate. I'm a bit edgy and my patience level is nil. Then, for some asinine reason, someone decided to rob me of an hour of sleep during this delicate time, and tonight alone, I received 11 political solicitation calls. If it happens tomorrow night, someone on the receiving end of an 800 number could be hearing from me.
Third (everything happens in 3's) I've been coordinating Utah RWA's Great Beginnings writing contest. I've never done anything this huge. Spreadsheets and I have a love-hate relationship. Just as I thought I had everything coordinated, lined up beautifully, and executed to perfection...all hell broke loose. I had judges drop out at the eleventh hour, leaving me curled in the fetal position sucking on my thumb (dipped in chocolate, of course). Luckily, my cheerleaders rallied, pom-poms shaking, and helped me back on my feet. My left eye may never stop twitching and my teeth have been ground to powder, but I think I see light at the end of the tunnel. It's a dim light...possibly just a firefly.
So by the end of April, I will have survived the contest, have a husband home waiting for me to return from the salt mines for the first time in 37 years, and more than likely, have gained back the seven pounds I've lost. I'll also be another year older. Oh...the joy.
My closing thought? When you reach the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on. There's no guarantee tomorrow is going to be any better, but the day after that, may be...or the day after that. "This too shall pass." Change is hard. Growing hurts, but it does make us better - increases our "learning curve." We gather knowledge every day whether we're aware of it or not. I hope my sweet husband, whom I adore, learns to enjoy this new phase...or stays out of my way!
Thanks for sharing another Wacky Wednesday with me.