So here we are, Compulsory Unpaid Leave, Day 8.
That Spouse o' Mine, I explain to people, is like an Australian Cattle Dog. He MUST have a job at all times. Must. If not given a job, the Aussie dog, and his Aussie counter part, that Spouse o' Mine counterpart, gets into trouble.
So here is bit of a perk on the murky trek through "Unpaid? Retroactive? Soon? Not soon at all? Forgotten?"
Our house exterior is looking GOOD. In that he would rather I not complicate his painting matters by participating leads to some verbal repartee. (May I please interject here that I commenced the house painting back in summer, slowly and surely, and so I surely do deserve some accolades for ladder-scampering and brush-cleaning, and oh: painting at least half of the entire HOUSE!) Ok, ok. I am off my soapbox. Ladder.
Another bit of a perk on the murky trek through "Unpaid? Retroactive? Soon? Not soon at all? Forgotten?"
That Spouse o' Mine hopped out of bed this morning (way too early, if you ask me), and thought out loud: "Should I call my student and ask him if he wants to come out and pound t-posts this week? Because he is unpaid this week as well." I mumbled "Yes". And the man headed for his email, to contact the college student.
I suppose the caffeine kicked in somewhere between emailing and all else, because the next thing I knew, that Spouse o' Mine was dressed and looking for a distance measure, and he needed to go in and get gas for the mower. I had no idea where all this was going, and I did not care, because it was not even 8:30 am.
Fast-forward to 11:30 am, when I had to drive down to the end of our property to tell that Spouse o' Mine that I was off to lunch with a friend, "Ta, ta!". He had driven in all the t-posts himself. No need for a 20-something to come out.
That Spouse o' Mine, and Martin the Helper.
Late this afternoon that Spouse o' Mine came in and asked me to join him in the side yard to attach chicken wire the length of our property. (Our ducks have decided that "out" is more exciting that "in", of late. So, one afternoon later, we can tick that one off our list of To-Dos. (It had been on my list for a LONG time, mind you.)
Our internet has been intermittent of late, and tonight that Spouse o' Mine complained about it. I replied, "I think maybe you could call Jeff at the telephone office tomorrow and talk to him about it." (Because I call the local phone company way too much, in my opinion, about international calls and internet and rural life in general. It's a sad thing, I think, when they recognize one's name in a phone call.)
So this is my life. A Spouse with too much time on his hands. (Con) He is finding things to do which have been neglected for some time. (Pro) He asks me, from time-to-time, what I am doing. (Con.)
OK. Glass: Half full. But only barely. Those folks in Congress seem to have lost track.