I have a confession to make: the stitches on the patch of my DH’s red check shirt are not
perfect. In fact they are not even all
that attractive.
Oh, the shirt is fine. The patch and the stitching is invisible from the outside, but the
inside is a mess. I expect the patch to
visible, but I had hoped the stitching would be lovingly perfect. Alas this is not so. Oh there are no knots or dangling thread
tangles, just uneven imperfect stitches. I should redo it, but I will not. I seriously doubt that anyone will pull my DH’s shirt off him and say
“oh you poor man, your wife can’t even mend your shirts nicely”. I don’t really think anyone will see the
inside of DH’s shirt except himself and his laundress (me) and the sloppy work
will remind me about how upset I was that night.
I was upset because it was late, after 11 and DH was not yet
home from the office. In fact I had spoken to him and he said he had much work
still to do. Now, I don’t mind hard
work and late hours, ghee, if I did I would never have married a surgeon. When DH was in active practice, I had little
patience with other doctor’s wives who complained that their husbands were gone
all the time and they had to do everything themselves. I always figured I knew what I was getting
into. Besides I have always been a pretty independent sort, and I know
perfectly well that when I’ve worked a 14 hour or longer day, I don’t feel
inspired to help out around the house either.
But now that he is “retired” and working at his retirement
career, I hate for him to work that hard…it’s one thing when you are young and
ambitious and driven, and another completely when you are in your 70’s no
matter how fit and strong you are. I
still don’t mind him working if he loves it. But so far this year he hasn’t left the office before 9 PM any night, and when he comes home he
dreads having to go back. I am
increasingly thinking it is time for retirement. I want DH to enjoy his life.
I wasn’t upset at DH, I was more worried and concerned about
him. I was annoyed at all the other
peopled involved, the staff who book him so heavily, the clients who keep
plaguing him with increasingly niggling and pedantic demands that are, for the
most part, repetitive nonsense.
He finally called at 12:15 AM. I made dinner while the poor thing drove
home. He was not happy to go back to
work on Friday, even thought it was only for a couple of hours. After the late night, between work, and gym,
and grocery shopping, there was no sewing yesterday. Can we make it better? Is it worth it? Only time will tell.