The more I ponder on this subject the more separate ones I discover.
I cook, shop, clean house, and feed and manage the poodles. I groom, clip, bath and decide on their day to day movements and needs.
I garden, building new beds in the larger areas, deciding what I would like to go in and where ….. size, shapes, colours, and how I feel about each new acquisition. I plant and manage the vegetable garden, weeding, watering, mulching and checking for pests. I harvest from that for the kitchen and give the excess away to friends and family. I spray the driveways and paths for weeds. My man is not allowed to spray, as he kills the good stuff and uses too much concentrate. He is only allowed to spray outside the house yard.
My laptop and old computer upstairs are another one. I build websites, add to my blog, process photos, email to my family and friends and surf the net. I have a gorgeous laptop, a Toshiba Qosmio, which I got for my last year’s birthday. With that, I can go upstairs to bed, plug it in to bunny ears and watch TV if he’s watching the footy or something I don’t want to see.
I manage the bank accounts, planning bill payments and savings plans.
I maintain contact with my daughters, remembering birthdays and orchestrating family get togethers. I also arrange our small social dinner parties and who comes and when.
My man has his shed and his paid work/ career. He manages the household heating/ collecting, splitting and stacking firewood. He brings wood in and lights the fire on cool evenings.
He plans his/our motorcycling trips and when he goes off on rides with his mates. He repairs and renovates around the house and property when needed.
He maintains contact with his children and supports them when needed.
It has taken us many years of balancing what was most important to each of us to set up our areas of expertise.
We shop together now, and my usual speedy exercise takes on a whole new lean. For some odd reason, I enjoyed our household shopping, but now cannot push the trolley properly, carry or load parcels, or, of course, drive!
Years ago, he used to love shopping, calling it 'hunting and gathering', and enjoyed 'doing laps' of the supermarket. We haven't shopped together much for years as I do it during the week (maybe I will have to re-train him again when this is all over!).This morning, as we worked on making our Sunday eggs on toast, he used olive oil instead of a dab of butter. I chastised him, telling that the ‘eggs don’t stick with butter’. His eyes rolled at me, as if I should get out of the way, he was doing it.
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