SHE AIN'T HEAVY, SHE'S MY WIFE

Black fiberglass casts are not the latest rage this winter, but I am wearing one nevertheless. What I'm not wearing is all of the clothing I ordered online--the soft sweaters in muted tones--some long, some short, some cabled down the front, and the black down coat with the tiny herringbone pattern and shawl collar. Alas, my new black accessory, the one I did NOT order online, is too bulky and none of the sleeves will fit over it. So the coat hangs in the closet and the sweaters are all neatly folded away in the bureau. Instead I have resorted to wearing my husband’s old nubby sweaters--the ones that were originally destined for the Good Will pile. These lucky guys have been given a reprieve by the governor, and their lives have been extended. (Perhaps I subconsciously knew not to get rid of them when I pulled them out of the wash and realized they were way too small for him to wear ever again.)

Not being able to wear my clothes is only part of my problem these days.  I am trying to adjust to my (temporary) disability, but it is difficult for me to rely on anyone EVER, and now I am having to depend on my husband for far too many things than I am comfortable with: preparing my food (don’t ask), cutting my food, buttoning my buttons, making my ponytails (who doesn’t know how to make a ponytail??). I know he is doing the best he can, so biting my tongue rather than biting his head off out of frustration has become my goal. I am really working hard not be a total “be-atch” everyday--only some days. 


I’ve always thought of myself as being relatively self-sufficient.  I lived alone for quite a while after college, and I enjoyed the independence. I paid my own bills, cooked my own food, and made my own decisions. Despite having been married for twenty-five years, I still have managed to maintain much of that independence. My husband and I are definitely a team, but we are not bound at the hip. (We even lived on separate coasts last year, but that’s another story.) Our partnership is very elastic and it can tighten and stretch when necessary.

Since I broke my wrist that elasticity has been tightened, and I have an idea that neither one of us is thrilled about it. He has his strengths and I have mine, but now those lines have been blurred. I wouldn’t call myself a control freak, but I do like things to be done a certain way. I will settle for less, and lately (now is the time to bring out the violins),I have been.  

Laundry gets done, but it doesn’t get folded, floors get washed and vacuumed, but the rugs have to wait. Food is purchased, but no one is doing any cooking around here. (And whaddya mean you don't know what size pot to use?) Doth I protest too much? Strange thing is I'm not sure what bothers me the most, the fact that these things are not getting done, or the fact that it doesn’t bother my husband that these things are not getting done. I could hire lots of people who would be more than happy to come in and take charge of the situation (and I still might since I’ve got four more weeks of this torture). But, I can’t get past the underlying issue which is, how bad do things around here have to get before anyone (other than myself) does something about it??

Has anyone out there ever experienced this sort of thing? How does one get others in the family to pitch in without having to write list after list after list? (Why can’t "some people" function without lists--isn't knowing some of these things innate?) I know these are rhetorical questions, but if anyone out there truly does have some answers, please pass them down.

Looking forward to getting some suggestions. Four weeks isn't really that long, right?? In the meantime I’ve got some online shopping to do. (It’s the only thing I can manage really well while using my right hand, and today is my non-bitch day.)