Times have changed in a hundred small ways around the house. I don’t turn the dishwasher on until I’m running low on coffee mugs, wine glasses or cereal bowls. My dinner plates haven’t seen the light of day for weeks. I do the laundry when I run out of clean underwear and even then I have to search around for other dirty items to fill the washing machine. I’m not used to being a party of one. I never thought not having enough dirty clothes to make a load would ever be a problem, but it is. This is a whole new world.
If it weren’t for dog hair I’d rarely have to vacuum. The roll of toilet paper seems to last forever and the newspaper is always right where I left it. Nobody switches the T.V. channel when I’m not looking and, truth told, that’s monotonous and boring. It turns out I was the one leaving sticky rings on the coffee table and dishes in the sink.
I’ve been in charge of taking the garbage out for years but I quietly curse every time there is a dimming pop when I flip on a light switch. Lightbulbs are a ‘blue job’ at our house – we have pot lights and they are a pain to change. Thankfully daylight stretches to nearly bedtime right now and I’m almost unaware my world is growing darker, but the days are growing shorter and soon I will have to deal with that.
I hesitate to put out a call for help every time something frustrates me. I’m slowly developing strategies to cope with things that require more muscle than I’ve got or more mechanical expertise. Does anyone even care if the washing machine squeaks on its spin cycle twice a week or if the water in the toilet keeps on running after it’s been flushed? I’m betting even the Queen has had to wiggle the handle on a toilet a couple of times in her life. And does a washing machine even squeak if nobody is home to hear?
I’ve discovered that my motivation for doing housework was the fact someone was coming home. The only reason I enjoyed cooking was because someone else enjoyed eating what I cooked. It seems I lived my life not only with someone but for them. Even when he was out of town I was holding the fort and keeping it up for him. I’m not sure he knew that. Actually, I’m not sure I did, until recently.
I’m dealing with a hundred small changes and facing a giant one while I do. I’m learning how to cope, how to live, how to ‘be’ without him, one little thing at a time.