Accelerating into the holidays
- col-teri-stein
- December 10, 2020
- 921
Recently, my husband, Joe, made the comment he wished there wasn’t COVID so I could take my laptop computer and go write at the library. (Well, that is just one small reason to wish there wasn’t COVID because we are all too familiar with the horrors.)
“I didn’t say that to be mean,” Joe said.
I knew exactly what he meant. When I retired earlier this year, it was great — for me. Going to my day job, I was used to being around people all the time, and then when I came home, Joe was always here. That was my schedule.
For Joe, who was used to having more time alone for himself during the day, it has been an adjustment. He wants me out.
And now with the pandemic ramping up again and the cold gray winter weather closing in, all this togetherness is getting a little stifling. I did not want to think it, but Joe may be plotting against me. Then he could ride out the pandemic in peace, he would not have to read about himself in the paper and I wouldn’t be sending him on errands to the big box store.
We know they are doing extra cleaning there, but it is not very comforting to see people running around with their required mask under their nose, infringing on your personal space and even sneezing on your cart. That is why I am too busy to go. Last time Joe went to the store, he came home, threw all his clothes in the washer and took a shower. Shopping there during a pandemic is so much fun he compares it to working a full eight-hour day.
Other goods things about living alone, Joe wouldn’t have to listen to me laugh about stupid stuff. I tend to find humor in just about everything. (And so does my sister. Dad has always said we put the fun in funeral.)
Joe could watch whatever he wanted on TV, and he would not have to eat any of the sugar-free, food allergy/intolerance meals I must cook for myself.
Sometimes I make two different dishes, one for me and one for him, for the same meal, and that is a real pain. I do wish I could just open a can of cream soup and throw something in the slow cooker that we would both eat and like.
But back to Joe’s insidious plan to get rid of me. I was headed to the grocery store one day last week. I got in the car and was backing out of the drive; it seemed like the engine was racing. What the heck?
When I got out on the road, the car was gaining speed up a slight grade, and I did not even have my foot on the gas pedal. After I traveled a short distance, the car was still picking up speed. This was really worrying me now. Was there something wrong with my car?
But then I realized I really wasn’t feeling the gas pedal with my foot. I glanced down. The gas pedal was missing.
At least the brake pedal was still there. That is when I decided to pull into a nearby parking lot before I reached the state route for a closer look. Being unable to control your speed on a main road would not be that much fun.
It was true. The gas pedal was missing, and it was all Joe’s fault. Because the day before, Joe had nicely cleaned my driver’s side floor mat, and when he put it back, he swears he did not notice the mat had flopped over the gas pedal before he snapped it to the floor.
At least that’s his story, and he’s sticking to it.
I pulled out the floor mat, found the gas pedal, repositioned the mat correctly and went about my day. I am still alive, so far, but with the many tasks I have yet to do to prepare for the holidays, the only unplanned acceleration now is how fast the days hurtle toward Christmas and New Year’s. Stay safe out there.