My husband is retiring next week. This statement has prompted many responses, most commonly, “Oh, no. What are you going to do?”
I am late to the game, being married to a workaholic entrepreneur, but finally, the day has arrived. I fear I have had far, far too much time to get used to a tidy house and complete control of the TV remote. I also see piles of dishes in my future and plan to melt or break something new every week, after I have blindly shoved them all in the dishwasher.
By default, dirty dishes mean I must have cooked and served something. That is my biggest dread. Everything, short of a TV dinner on a paper plate, requires washing up. While he has many talents, dishwashing is not among them.
I have never been enamored of the kitchen and besides; my husband is a weird eater. His tastes aren’t so weird, although he does fancy pickled fish. It’s that he eats huge quantities. Well, they seem huge to me. I can cook once and live off leftovers for a week.
When we dine together, there are no leftovers and he requires third helpings. And, no, he is not even overweight.
I am asking every woman I know how to simplify the whole meal thing. Most offer one word. Costco. Others mention casseroles, lots of pasta and sandwiches. I’m waiting for someone to tell me how to afford a cook.
Meanwhile, I am comforted by the fact that he was a Green Beret. If he gets really hungry, he knows how to forage. I could let him live on cheese and crackers and he’d be content. But if I did, my mother would surely haunt me.
I expect I will have to alter my well-worn rut and get dishpan hands, but thank goodness, I won’t need to find things to keep my now-home husband busy. He is a frustrated farmer who’s happiest in the garden and can spend hours watching educational documentaries. Remember, opposites attract.
Jean Gillette is a freelance writer whose about to have him for better or for worse and for lunch, too.
Contact her at jgillette @coastnewsgroup.com.