After awhile in marriage, as in a good friendship you learn when to speak up and when to let something go. I have learned that you cannot tell a man after 18 years in the army of jumping out of planes, piecing together analyst information about the Middle East, etc. when or how to do something. You must choose those battles. Since our store is closed, I am enjoying getting things done and Michael is much more available of course to do things. If I start to clean our brick façade outside, he will come out to help with his power washer and then the driveway is cleaned. Next, there is the post box precariously perched on top of a wooden pole ready to fall. So, he fixed it. I suggested something similar a neighbor had done with a box and he found the perfect box and did an even better job. While he cleaned the driveway, I swept the garage, and cleaned around the garage. For awhile, the garage was like the basement of our old farmhouse in New York State. It resembled a dungeon full of cobwebs and machines that I had no idea what they do only knowing that I probably shouldn’t play around with them.

It is wonderful to have some time to yourself and I really appreciate it as our schedule revolved around the store and then waiting for customers. I don’t think you can ever appreciate time until you are molded to a place unable to move and not able to afford to hire people to help you. All the little chores are getting done and that is a really good feeling.

Time to make ratatouille, bike to town, send off writing samples, and just do nothing. Time to exercise and get in shape for next year. I am reminded of the words of T.S. Eliot “The Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock”:
“And indeed there will be time for the yellow smoke that slides along the street rubbing its back upon the window-panes; there will be time , there will be time to prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet; there will be time to murder and create, and time for all the works and days of hands that lift and drop a question on your plate; time for you and time for me, and time yet for a hundred indecisions, and for a hundred visions and revisions, before the taking of toast and tea.” T.S. Eliot