A butcher, a baker and candlestick maker

It figures my husband would decide to take holidays during the week that winter cracked and fell into a deep freeze. The poor guy didn’t know what to do with himself.
Of course, he did need a few days to recover from his launch into the world of exercise in the big city the previous week. This recuperation, though, did not include his upper body, which I have always believed to be a direct descendant of Samson.
Come to think of it, Pete also has Samson’s weakness for women (an all-inclusive package known as me). On the other hand, the fact he shaved his head a few days ago did nothing to deter his ability to hold up my world, unlike the saga of the strongman of the past.
I must admit I was a bit jealous at first about this holiday affair when Mr. Man was tucked warmly in bed each morning catching up on his beauty sleep as I toddled off to work in the bitter cold.
But that didn’t last long.
Yes, I’ve had the 60/40 advisory lesson drilled into me on how relationships work and I get it. Mind you, I’m used to more of a 70/30 split on my household front because that’s the way I operate.
To my own fault, I do many things very well on my own, including folding the laundry, which if done by the man of the house all looks the same—like rolled up balls of socks.
But all bets were off when my husband on holidays was still sleeping as I headed out to work. This is when I finally pulled out all the stops and nagged like an old horse for a backlog of work orders that involved wiring to “Get done already!”
Heaven only knows why it is that I must stoop to such lowly ground to get my own electrician to do work in his own home. But then again, I believe that was once an advisory lesson, too, and a phenomenon that probably exists in the homes of most tradesmen.
But it worked.
I felt bad for about two seconds about hauling him on to the job on his holidays. “And while you’re at it,” I suggested with tact, “do you think you could fix the oven, vacuum, dust, bake, and make me two candleholders?”
Doing the dishes, making the bed, cleaning the bathroom, and other 70/30 chores also made for sweet delights off my list during his hiatus from work.
And in true Samson style, the candleholders were created using fist and iron (he got brownie points for those).
I did, however, meet with a slight backfire on Thursday afternoon when I arrived home to the smell of fresh-baked bread, classical music, and what Daughter #3 clearly explained was “the happy housewife” working away in the kitchen.
And, for the first time since I met Mr. Man in 1995, he cleared the bar on making our pizza dough with the same passion as I do every Friday night.
For just a little while, I was markedly displaced in my household role and about to reverse my 70/30 makeover. Then I remembered that Daughter #3 was flying the coop for a friend’s house Friday night.
I wonder what he’d look like wearing only an apron?

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