Paul is away for most of a week. This is the first morning, and I have been nesting. I put his towel in the laundry, for a week of not finding it spread out every morning so that it damply covers the handle of the toilet until I have to shove it out of the way. I put out a new hand towel, for a week of knowing I won’t find it on the floor, or with a glob of toothpaste on it, or with dirty smears because he just rinsed his hands a little and used the towel to wipe the dirt off or because he used it to wipe up a spill. I changed the sheets, for a week of not finding his corners pulled almost all the way off every morning. I wiped his toothpaste speckles off the mirror, and will enjoy nearly a week of the shine, without feeling resentment at the immediate reappearance of speckles. I cleaned my glasses, knowing no one will spit mouthwash into the sink so vigorously that it crests over the sides and spreads across the bathroom counter and even splatters the wall and therefore also my glasses, so that when I peer at them before putting them on I can see and feel that they are sticky with someone else’s spit-out mouthwash; and without having to think about how I have painfully raised this topic, thinking it would embarrass him, and had it result in no change of behavior, even though I feel 99.9999% of humanity would agree that the over-vigorous mouthwash-spitter is the wrong one and should stop. It’s funny how much more willing I was to pick up and throw away a piece of trash on the floor, when I know another adult didn’t walk right past it earlier. It was odd how lighthearted–cheerful, even!–I felt about clearing away another adult’s dirty cup when I knew it wouldn’t be replaced with another dirty cup.
I handled Father’s Day in my new way, which is to slightly one-up what he did for Mother’s Day. This year he said “Happy Mother’s Day!,” and he offered to make dinner but on a night we were already planning on getting pizza to celebrate Rob’s graduation, and to be fair I was the one who said I didn’t want to postpone it a week and would rather just skip it. So this year I said “Happy Father’s Day!”; and I reminded the children about it a week before; and when we were running errands on Sunday I saw a bottle of lemon cream liqueur I thought he’d enjoy trying and I added it to our basket. I didn’t plan anything ahead of time; I didn’t clean his car or do any other chores I thought he’d appreciate; I didn’t ask him how he’d like to spend the day or what he wanted for dinner, because I assumed he would do/have whatever he wanted as he does every day.
No, things are not going particularly well, I do realize that. This isn’t me saying “Marriage, amirite??” as if I think everyone’s marriage is like this. Though I’m also trying to avoid acting as if having to deal with someone else’s damp towel is the equivalent of living in inhumane and insufferable circumstances.
LET’S PLEASE TALK ABOUT SOMETHING ELSE. I finished The Once and Future Witches, by Alix E. Harrow.
I liked it. At some point fairly early on I thought to myself “I’ll bet this was written in the 2015-2020ish era,” and sure enough. There are themes about how non-men are treated by men/society, and about how culturally anything that gives non-men any power or equality (and/or protects non-men from what men would like to do) is spun as being bad/evil and in need of extraction/squashing. Witchcraft was power that was understood to be held by women and passed down by women, and so it made some men afraid/insecure, and when some men are afraid/insecure they get violent/angry toward the thing that made them afraid/insecure. ANYWAY IT WAS PRETTY SATISFYING TO READ. And it made me want to read more about witchcraft.
But it was longer than it should have been, in my opinion. I kept feeling a little burdened by how much of the book I still had left to read. I did really like it, and I WANTED to finish it, and I would recommend it; but I would also recommend getting it from the library, and giving yourself permission to do a little skimming.