One month ago, the husband finally decided to hang up his spurs and join the ranks of the blissfully retired.
A few days later, I thought I would report in here with my thoughts. I wanted to say, most wives would be trepidatious about the prospect of having the old man underfoot 24/7. But, since I had been eagerly anticipating this day for years, I would just blissfully slide into a state of togetherness with my life partner that we hadn't enjoyed since, perhaps, the first decade of our L.O.N.G. association.
But I got busy, with returning to the madness of the Scandinavian Festival and all, and never got around to composing that post.
So now we're a month in. And let me say, my attitude has evolved just a bit. Perhaps back in the direction of not precisely knowing how we're going to navigate this having the old man underfoot 24/7.
I find that I'm having a bit of trouble giving up my solitary life built around staying out from under his feet while he was working. I could pretty much pick up and go anywhere I wanted, any time, and not worry that I was leaving him at loose ends (or free to park in his recliner and stare at the tv all day and all evening, which he tended to do when left unattended.)
It's not that we have nothing to do. There are so many projects around the house and our small business that need doing, we should have work lined up for the next four or five years, at least.
It's just that we tend to lose focus when one of us isn't behind the other, pushing, cajoling and maybe a little bit of kicking in the pants.
The end result is, after conquering the challenge of the Scandinavian Festival, we've been kind of flailing around, bouncing off little projects, and not accomplishing a whole lot of anything.
This will never do.
I can only have faith that we're going to eventually haul ourselves up on to the right track and start pulling like a team. While leaving each of us time and space for individual projects.
A tall order, maybe. But I think we can handle it.
