Domesticia

Andy and I have been two ships passing in the kitchen for a few weeks now.

I have tried to take on all of the pre-move sorting, house keeping, children raising, school volunteering, dog walking, general Domesticia (sounds so much more importante when in bad Italiano) when he is under the proverbial gun at school.  Problem is, he has remained under the proverbial gun at school since school started ten months ago. His load never lightens, my responsibilities at home never lessen, and the folded laundry never reaches its final destination.   

Graduation is fast approaching so this too, shall end but in the meantime...

To help out with his stress of school deadlines (week long research papers coupled with ridiculous amounts of required reading, etc.) I've tried to give the man some space in his garage.

In turn, I had no idea we were selling his road bike and our trailer.  But yesterday two different men drove up in our driveway, exchanged folded bills for handshakes with Andy, and business was done.  Transaction complete while I blinked the glint of confusion out of my eyes.

Look out Kingpin.  There's a new Craigslister in town.

I went on to make Beef Bolognaise (ground chicken goulash with orzo), helped Abby create her Shabbat table (complete with costumes, kiddish cup, challah scarf) and fielded phone calls/texts related to our move.  Overall, dinner turned out to be surprisingly fun.

 

 

 (I am getting a lesson about proper Shabbat blessings here.  Even though Google says yes, Abby says no.)

I don't know about your house but dinner is usually the time our family has a collective hypoglycemic crash and civil unrest is so close you can see gunsmoke rise from Abby's cranium.  But not last night;  Grayson ate excuses and drank water but overall, dinner was fun.   

After climbing into bed,
I snuggled with my pillow.  "Huh.  There's no pillowcase on my pillow."

"It's on there, must be backwards," says my barely audible husband.  I check.  Still no pillowcase despite further scrutiny.  "Nope, not on there." I peep.

"I played three hours of baseball with Grayson, sold two of our biggest moneymakers, and made three beds by myself so we could sleep on sheets instead of a mattress cover.  I missed one pillowcase.  One.  Pillowcase."  His words bang on my Domesticia guilt like a soft drum.

"And you found it." *cymbals*