While the husband is away…

My husband left for Europe Tuesday afternoon and returns on Friday evening and I welcome his departure, although I do wish he told me where the new vibrator is hidden. It’s not the type of question one might ask of a government regulated employee whose emails are monitored for compliance. I did, however, ask him last week on the phone where the painkillers were, leaving out the word Percocet as I could hear the subtle *beep* on the phone signaling our call was being recorded.

Since I threw my back out on Halloween, six hours on the floor complete with spasms which led to an ambulance ride to the local hospital, I’m reluctant to pick up the children. Not that whiny toddlers who shed real tears when they do not get what they want the moment their heart desires should not be carried as a consolation. While I feel fantastic, as if the *back incident* never happened, I worry about making the same mistake again resulting in even more time writhing on the floor with the bad pain.

At my husband’s insistence with nominal objection my part, I have full time help this week which means I have not done a dish and should probably get a manicure.

Now I have to make it out to buy a discounted Halloween costume and wig to surprise my man when he returns.

Pretending to be tired

Throughout multiple stages of my life I found myself bragging about how little sleep I had logged and how tired I was. Even if the kids did not exhaust me, it made a decent Facebook status. Daylight Savings, in the Fall had me rejoice about an extra hour one evening. And throughout these gloating conversations, I was not always *that* tired or rundown. Sometimes. In the earlier years.

With a spasming back as I type this I am supposed to rest and yet it feels so indulgent. I’m supposed to be tired not well rested. While I’m told I have to take it easy, I’m more accustomed to wasting time and not prioritizing.

So given my opportunities to rest, I should seize them even at the risk of not keeping up with the conversation.