I had a whole long blog entry ready about how Hubby is twanging on my last nerve with this semi-retirement thing. But I deleted it because it sounded way too whiney.
The Reader’s Digest Condensed Version is that it hasn’t panned out quite the way he said it would. We’ve been lucky and the fishing rod repair business has taken off and the business has been pretty steady. The part that hasn’t quite panned out is the "helping around the house" part. Hubby is enjoying being semi-retired. After working so hard most of his life – and working an average of 45 hours a week for the 25 years we’ve been together – I can’t begrudge the guy some goof-off time.
But, but, but . . . there are days when I grumble under my breath that supper isn’t waiting on me when I get home from work . . . and I pout a little on Friday mornings when I have to get up and go to work and he’s still sleeping. . . .and now I’m the one working 42 hours a week.
Yes, I know it’s completely selfish and I should say something to him about it. But when I listen to him talk about how much he enjoys fixing the fishing rods and how much he enjoys leaving his job at 4 p.m. every day and having Friday’s off, I just can’t bring myself to do it.
Because I remember what he went through to put me through college when we were first married.
Small price to pay, don’t ya think?