Wow. I've said that a lot in the last two days. Wow. I'm out of work. Laid off. Dismissed. I've worked most of my life since 1969, off an on until 1981. I've worked steadily since then. OK, there was that year I took off for school, but it was full-time school, so I count that as work.
I'm at loose ends. When I come out of shock, I'm going to feel awful.
I started what I hope is a new job yesterday. Learning something new at my age worries me a lot, but hey! I don't have a boss! I'll be doing something I've never done before in my whole 58 years. I'll be taking care of the house, and maybe part of the yard.
Yesterday I cleaned the front room like it has never been cleaned before, starting on the south wall and working clockwise. Curtains, windows, and woodwork were washed. Furniture was vacuumed, edges minutely plucked of dust and hairs, and the furniture polished. This room holds approximately 27 square acres of wood surface that requires dusting.
Poor Honey started the day off by taking his life in his hands. He was drinking his coffee watching to see what I was about. I pulled the couch out, took the curtains down and put them in the washer (cheap lace) and stood back to evaluate my next step. That's how I work. I complete a step, stand back and evaluate, move on to the next step.
While I was in evaluation mode, Honey said, "Do you know what you ought to do while you have the curtains down?"
Pause, two, three, four -- CRAZY MODE!
I chewed my tongue, closed my eyes so he wouldn't see them roll back in my head, tucked the fangs into my shirt collar, and said, "Honey, we need to talk."
With visions of Mom on a bad day that certainly weren't worth emulating, I used all my super powers not to go that direction.
"Honey, I'm really not myself today. I may not be for a while. The kindest thing you can do for me is NEVER offer suggestions. I don't do things the way you do, but they turn out all right in the end anyway. Please, if the words While You're At It come to your lips, bite them and run away."
He's never in 21 years given up on making me a better person. He's organized, methodical, and probably just a little OCD. I hurt his feelings, but he was a good sport. He lightened up enough to tease me about missing a spot.
So the day passed. It was a long day, and another just like it rolled around this morning.