But with a whimper.
Jul. 25th, 2008 01:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
porphyrinSo it's like this:
I'm working a lot.
Yeah, I hear some of you say. And?
And nothing. That's all I do. I haven't managed to squeeze karate in there at all lately, other than during vacation (and that is a tale in and of itself).
For instance: I'm on call tonight and working 9-5 Saturday and Sunday in the Urgent Care. Why? Gotta pay for the nanny.
"We never see each other," Mike protests to me last night at 11 pm, when I staggered home after karate and the post-karate meeting at Keegan's.
I open my mouth to refute this, but he's already asleep.
And he's right: Mondays I am teaching pre-karate, Tuesdays he does a track workout until late evening, Wednesdays he's up early to run and I go to karate at night, Thursdays I go to karate at night and he runs (and pushes both kids), Fridays is my late day at work.
I get up at 4:45 AM MTRF, and sleep in until 5:45 on W.
He gets up at 5:00 on W to run, and sleeps in until 6:30 MTRF.
I go to bed by 10.
He's up for two more hours after that; after all, he's not up at the ass-crack of dawn.
Yesterday the nanny observed that the big fish (the Grouch) was gone. When had it died? Well, he'd euthanized it on Wednesday night after I'd gone to bed. What did he do with the body? I had to call him to find out, beset by a creeping fear that it was wrapped in a plastic bag in our freezer or something.
"Masano helped me dig the hole to bury it," he said impatiently (he was at work).
I will put my head down and push through the next 2 weeks, but after that?
Something has got to give, because DAMMNIT, if you can't trust that your wife will help you bury the bodies, there's something very wrong with the relationship.
I'm working a lot.
Yeah, I hear some of you say. And?
And nothing. That's all I do. I haven't managed to squeeze karate in there at all lately, other than during vacation (and that is a tale in and of itself).
For instance: I'm on call tonight and working 9-5 Saturday and Sunday in the Urgent Care. Why? Gotta pay for the nanny.
"We never see each other," Mike protests to me last night at 11 pm, when I staggered home after karate and the post-karate meeting at Keegan's.
I open my mouth to refute this, but he's already asleep.
And he's right: Mondays I am teaching pre-karate, Tuesdays he does a track workout until late evening, Wednesdays he's up early to run and I go to karate at night, Thursdays I go to karate at night and he runs (and pushes both kids), Fridays is my late day at work.
I get up at 4:45 AM MTRF, and sleep in until 5:45 on W.
He gets up at 5:00 on W to run, and sleeps in until 6:30 MTRF.
I go to bed by 10.
He's up for two more hours after that; after all, he's not up at the ass-crack of dawn.
Yesterday the nanny observed that the big fish (the Grouch) was gone. When had it died? Well, he'd euthanized it on Wednesday night after I'd gone to bed. What did he do with the body? I had to call him to find out, beset by a creeping fear that it was wrapped in a plastic bag in our freezer or something.
"Masano helped me dig the hole to bury it," he said impatiently (he was at work).
I will put my head down and push through the next 2 weeks, but after that?
Something has got to give, because DAMMNIT, if you can't trust that your wife will help you bury the bodies, there's something very wrong with the relationship.
