Last Wednesday, Peter’s surgeon told me, in no nonsense medical terms, that “His shoulder was a mess but the operation was a success”. What great news! Just think, in six, short weeks he will be able to take off his sling and lift a cup of coffee.
In the meantime, I’ve had to take over some chores I prefer not to do. I just did the lawn on our spaceship lawn mower. I felt like Grandpappy Amos from the Real McCoys (Series 1, episode 6). He tried out one of them new fangled machines, albeit a tractor, and drove into a tree. Fortunately I only ran over some daffodils. Funny, I don’t remember the porch being covered with grass clippings after Peter mows.
Cleaning the toilets and taking the garbage and recycling to the transfer station are two chores I’ve yet to tackle. I hope there aren’t more.
Most everything else we take turns doing. But there’s no turn taking going on for the next month and a half.
He’s managing well for himself for breakfast and lunch, however I’m responsible for dinner. When Peter steps into the kitchen with a family recipe or something exotic, he stays there until it’s done. And he cleans up. It may take two hours but usually more.
I’m Queen of Casseroles and Leftovers. Short prep, easy clean up. However I can’t submit him to quesadillas and last summer’s, never-ending supply of frozen zucchini soup renditions for the next 45 days, so I’m trying new recipes. That means more research, more shopping, more prep, and more clean up.
I’d rather not use the dishwasher because Peter rolls his eyes when I stack it. (Personally, I think it’s a poorly designed machine.) But unfortunately I’m using more utensils and such, so it’s required.
I’m an early riser so I give Lassie her breakfast. Peter, normally, does dinner at five. He washes out her dog dishes more often than I do. Like 100% more often. I thought dog dishes were better left to season like cast iron skillets and salad bowls. We’ll see how the Lass is doing at the end of June.
Of course cooking, cleaning and caring for my loved ones is not a hardship. It just takes more time than I’m used to giving. Frankly it’s a bit more of my time than I would rather give. That doesn’t make me a bad person.
I think Peter was secretly relieved when I told him that by no means was I taking over lawn mowing. It’s still his job. With any luck, I can reassure him more, once I find the toilet brush and the garbage permit.
Just think in 6 to 12 weeks Peter is allowed to make a sandwich. Did I mention it’s his right arm?
Alexandra Langstaff 