Y’all. I forgot how difficult it is to build anything with snow. I’m so exhausted! Mr. Buttons and I constructed a wall a foot tall and four feet long.
There’s an electric bill attached to our front door with a magnet. It belongs to our neighbor and it’s been there for three days. My husband got it out of our mailbox, and he has walked it over to the neighbor’s house three times but she’s not been home. He won’t put it in her mailbox because he says that would be a federal offense. I’m happy with myself for giving him space to solve a problem. He loathes confrontation, and it seems to me that it’s not very important to him that she gets her bill.
This is an important incident. It’s important to me. I have learned to stay in my own space, figuratively and literally. I can imagine my husband’s parents stepping in and taking care of the problem. They took care of everything. His mom always took the trash out for him because he would “forget”. She seems like one of those moms who doesn’t think any woman could love her son right or work hard enough to take care of everything and over function and fix everything and anticipate needs and read minds and figure everything out and deliver it on a silver platter. I have never yet met a mom who has expressed any concern about whether or not her son is loving his wife, making good decisions, and setting a good example for his children. I know of no such women. They must exist SOMEwhere…
Oh. I do know one. Me. But Mr. Buttons isn’t married yet. He better put his wife first and care about her needs and perspectives and experiences. I mean, if you’re already married, you might as well, right? And if you’re not married, it is better to stay single and serve God.