Gila Man, Thou Hast Redemed Thyself…

As I sit here on my hiney, posting yet another entry on the web, my husband is in the kitchen cleaning up. Really.

Gila Man and Mr. B stayed home from church on Sunday because Mr. B woke up at 3:00 a.m. with a fever of 103. By 8:00 a.m., it was down to 101.8, but I wasn’t going to bring him to church and infect every kid in primary, that’s just not fair! Besides, I really can’t stand it when people bring their sick kids to church or anywhere else for that matter…but let’s not get me started…Ahem…so

I went to church alone on Sunday, and while Gila Man watched Mr. B (again), I went to work out on Monday and then did a little grocery shopping after that. By the time I got home, I was exhausted, but I’m not usually wiped out after an hour of aerobics and shopping for crying out loud!!

Looooooooong story short – I am sick. Really sick. I don’t like being sick. And it’s funny how when a woman gets sick, it’s not like there’s NOTHING else to do. It just so happens that we had to have 8 cracked tiles replaced in our home. On Monday, of course. So we had 8 men come it with grinders, hammers, chisels, and other odds and ends to get the old tiles up and put in the new ones. So our home is COVERED with a super-fine layer of dust, the dishwasher needs to be unloaded, the dishes in the sink need to be loaded INTO the dishwasher, the groceries need to be put away, and the entire house needs to be dusted. Sheesh. And all this is done as I get sick. Brilliant. Yep. Great. Grand. WONDERFUL!

And then as I sit here, I hear a stirring in the kitchen. I can hear the clank of dishes and pots and pans banging together. I can hear water running in the sink. Gila Man calls from the kitchen, “Can I just stick these bags of fruit in the fridge?”. He knows that I have this fanatical need to wash EVERYTHING before it goes in the fridge, or it might contaminate the other food in there or what if Mr. B reaches in there to grab a piece of fruit or some carrots and he takes a bite and IT HASN’T BEEN WASHED?!?!?

“Sure,” I reply weakly from the spare bedroom, “Just be sure to leave them in the bags so I can wash them tomorrow.”

So when I do leave the confines of the bedroom to get a glass of water, I see that the entire kitchen has been cleaned up. There isn’t a single bag, dish, glass, pot or speck of dust in the kitchen. The rest of the house my be a wreck, but before we head off to bed, I can rest easy knowing that if I get up to get a glass of water, I won’t have to fight through the destruction from the crazy day to find a clean glass. Thanks babe, I really appreciate it.


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