Who Needs a Man?

Me, apparently. I do. Who would have thunk?

Don has been out of town, again, these last two weeks. His father took a sudden turn for the worse and was rehospitalized, so Don drove back to Illinois on the doctor's strong suggestion. We were both hoping that it was a false alarm, not as bad as it seemed, maybe the doc and his mom were over-reacting, etc, but apparently the doctor knew of what he spoke, as Don's dad passed away last week. It was decided for me that I should remain here and not travel for the funeral, so while Don has been there, tending to his mom, funeral arrangements, financial stuff, and cleaning his parents' garage; I've been here, holding down the fort. So to speak.

It is interesting, in a way, to discover exactly what one can and can't (or won't) do, when one is used to having a handy spouse around. Can I mow the lawn, having never done it before, and being eight months pregnant? Apparently, yes. (Four times in two weeks, since I can't do the back yard and front yard at the same time. The chickens aren't as scared of the mower as I think they should be.) Can I fix the air-conditioning unit when it breaks during an almost-unprecedented 90-degree April weekend? No. Can I still move the chicken coop, in my delicate condition? Yes. Operate the string trimmer? No. Fix the toilet, which also broke? No, but I know how to turn the water off at the base. Buy 120 pounds of compost and manure from Lowe's, haul it to the backyard, spread it on my garden, rake it in, and plant all the plants? Yes. Without crying from the pain and stiffness the next day? No. And I can take the dog on every one of her walks, morning, afternoon, and night, and keep everybody fed, watered, pooped and happy.

Really, it's as though the house knew Don was leaving, and felt vengeful towards me for some reason*. The high on Saturday was 93, and the air just never kicked on. It got to 89 degrees inside the house, even with all of the windows open and ceiling fans running. At 4:30 in the morning, it was still 79 inside. Sunday and Monday were the same. I did essentially nothing all weekend but take cool showers and lay naked on the bed under the fan-- so much for my to-do list. Who could vacuum or do laundry in that heat, I ask you**? Meanwhile, the toilet started running nonstop, water trickling endlessly from the tank to the bowl, and fast. I think the house doesn't like me.

When Don gets back, it will be to a neat yard, semi-clean house, planted garden, and healthy chicken-coop. But can I say that while I'm glad to have earned my I-can-do-it, who-needs-a-man! badge, I'd rather not have to? I hope yesterday was the last time I'll have to mow the lawn this season. On the bright side, I found at my doctor's appointment this morning that my weight has actually dropped a bit. Whether from all of the physical exertion of late, or from doing nothing but drinking water and sweating copiously all weekend, I don't know, but I'm guessing the latter. To think, some people pay a lot of money to experience such things. Come to my home, and sweat for free!

*Does this count as paranoia?

** Except for all of the generations of women who did it before a/c was even invented, and didn't get a break for being pregnant, either.