August 15, 2009
This post has nothing to do with infertility, pregnancy, bedrest, any of it.
Last weekend, before bedrest, DH and I went to dinner. Afterwards I suggested that we stop at a kitchen store. Our can opener disappeared a couple of weeks ago (really, just vanished! bizarre!) and we’ve been living a canless existence.
For several minutes I carefully perused the floor-to-ceiling display of different can openers. I debated the pros and cons of different models with myself, since my husband does not tend to have opinions about such things. Finally, I made my selection (the kind that opens cans on the side, at the seal, leaving no sharp edges). Then…
Me: I just want to look over here at one thing. It won’t take long.
DH: I just realized that I voluntarily accompanied you to a kitchen store. We could be here all day.
Me: No, I’m not getting anything else. I’m not supposed to be doing anything in the kitchen anyway, too much standing.
DH: Can we go then?
Me: Let’s just walk the long way around to the cash register.
DH: (silent compliance)
Me: I don’t think I ever told you that sometimes when I’m upset, I come here and walk around to make myself feel better. Not often, but sometimes.
DH: That’s amazing. That is the opposite of how I react to kitchen stores. The exact opposite.