Teamwork
I've mentioned before that there were times when I had to help George with his cleaning accounts and the trash route and the cleanout and sprucing up of the rental units. He helped me a few times with things at the post office--only so much he could legally do there.
At home we pretty much have our own "chores". He would say he gets the outside and I get the inside, but it's not actually true because he is a huge help with the laundry--lugging it up and downstairs to the machines. I happily fold. Over the years I have learned we have different views on how certain things are folded and try to do his stuff his way and my stuff my way. The hardest for me is that being left-handed, how we hang clothes on the coat hangers in different directions. It feels so backward to me when I put his shirts on a hanger, but I do it the way he likes.
He is "allergic" to anything having to do with the kitchen--cooking, cleaning, etc. He claims he had his share of cooking when I used to get home from work at 6 pm. He seems to remember cooking the meals. I remember him heating up what I prepared when I was home on my two-hour lunch break--how I hated a two-hour break and how hard it was to go back to work after that.
He will grab a vacuum when he sees the need. We have two bathrooms, and he cleans his and I clean mine. He mows and rakes and all those outside things. He always tries to make repairs on his own before calling a professional. He feels so good when he is successful and grumbles when we have to pay someone else to do it.
Over fifty years, we have put together so many pieces of furniture that needed to be assembled. So many! There are times when we had to undo some steps and backtrack. I usually read the directions and help assemble the parts. I point out the pictures of what should happen. We usually do pretty well together but at times we disagree and have to take a breath to see what is correct.
I think almost worse than assembling furniture, for me, is moving furniture. I foolishly told myself a couple of years ago that my moving furniture days were done. He would have to find someone else to help him. But alas, I guess since he's almost six years older than me, he figures if he can do it, then I can. I hate carrying and moving furniture. It's not just the lifting and carrying, but it's another test of communication. He has it in his mind which way we should be moving and I have to remind him, I don't know what he's thinking.
It's pretty clear to last fifty years, there has had to be a lot of teamwork. Teamwork can be doing things separately or together. I hear some women won't pump their own gas. I'm no woman's libber, but I pump my own gas. Sure, I'd love to be waited on and have him do all, but I don't expect it. Though, I do always ask him for spider relocation. Likewise, he is a pretty strong guy when he gets sick and doesn't expect me to wait on him, yes, I will get him some soup or a drink, but he doesn't ask for much when he is sick.
I plan the vacation itinerary, after the main destination is chosen and he usually drives. We discuss charitable giving. Life has us continually making decisions together. Some choices or chores are not easy.
For those of you who think after fifty years of teamwork, decision making and just living together for that long, that things must be easy, a well-oiled machine. Of course, we know each others quirks or how the other thinks, and know each other very well, but marriage is always give and take and working your way through the storms--if you aren't rowing toward the same direction, you won't get far. Be faithful, find the like-minded parts never sweat all the small stuff and plug on working together being the best team you can be.
"Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor. If either of them falls down, one can help the other up."
Ecclesiastes 4:9,10
No comments:
Post a Comment