Ask a busy person

G and I are adjusting to his new jobby-job. I've gotten over the suit thing. But I've warned him that one day, soon I'll bet, someone at our L train stop--a noticeably suit-free station--will say something shitty and mean to him because he's wearing one. They'll assume he's a cockroach real-estate broker, or INS, or the new wave of Wall Streeters who hang in Williamburg in the hopes they can bed a baggage-ridden emaciated super model (whose trust fund pays her rent on the loft, and whose Daddy's money needs a-managing). Or some other equally vile manifestation of The Man. Like a lawyer. So we're waiting for that.

But so far so good.

The week G started his job, my last freelance job ended. So as of late my days are spent doing housework, pretty much. Laundry, dishes, tub scrubbing. Shopping for food, picking up dry cleaning, walking the dog, cooking supper. The place has never been so clean and functional. A well-oiled machine, this. You'd think there'd be scads of time to rework that resume or begin some kind of fabulous new money-making arty hobby, but, um, no. By the time he returns home I'm just finishing my list of things to do, somehow. He's even had to walk the dog after getting home from work once or twice because I've been to busy, if you can believe that. This Protestant work ethic thing is a bitch let me tell you. I can't sit still. I have more free time when I'm pulling twelve hour production days.

So he gets home from work last night just before midnight. He peeped his head in the door and announced, "I love my new job" with a big, fake smile on his face. See, that's why he's the best boy ever. He could have bitched and moaned. But why? He had to work till midnight. He'll have to again. There's nothing he can do about it. Might as well laugh. So I got out of bed and made him a steak.

Like I said, so far so good.

Posted by Antigeist at September 24, 2004 05:08 PM