The “Correct” Way

​November 11, 2019

I’ll admit that I am particular. I know it. You know it. It’s not an understatement, I like things the way I like them.

His eyes twinkle and he laughs as he mouths, “You’re extra,” when I have a touch of peculiarities showing.

Sometimes, out of nowhere, I hear him whisper, “Extra-ness.”

When I cook and it’s his turn to clean after supper, #MyMississippLove accuses me of hovering like a vulture until I can crow-hop in to clean everything again, right behind him. He’s not wrong. Because he’s made mention of this bad habit of mine, something I didn’t even realize I do, I’m trying to let the way he does things be enough.

I’m still on chore restriction. I can’t lift, sweep, mop, vacuum, etc. I’m slow. I tire easily.

We were raised with the philosophy, “A family that works together, stays together.” I’m a huge believer in sharing chores. To sit on the sidelines is difficult.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that difficult. Some of it is quite enjoyable. I mean, the video I recorded of him vacuuming under the bed this past weekend is foreplay for the next five weeks, possibly much longer.

<insert vacuum video>

For the first time in a month, tonight, we went grocery shopping.

I carried up the eggs, bread and chips: an entire three bags. Our apartment building has push button door codes. Usually Jamie loads down both arms while also punching in the codes, and holding the doors for me. He’s a firm believer in “making it in one trip or it stays in the car.”

Tonight, in the cold, I pressed the codes and waited to hold open the doors for him.

Jamie carries up all of the heavy groceries. He even makes two full trips.

I also usually put all of the groceries away. Like I said, I’m particular. I like the cheese to go in the cheese drawer, the mustard in the door, the eggs in their slot on the short shelf. When I look in the frig, I don’t want to search – it should be where it goes. Also, this way, if we need groceries I can open the frig, take a glance, and I know exactly what we are missing.

Tonight, for no other reason than he shooed me out of the way to take over, Jamie put away the groceries.

All of this to say, now, as he is softly snoring next to me, I am fighting every urge not to swoop back into that refrigerator and rearrange it the “correct” way.