The Minnesota Farm Woman

To keep your marriage brimming, With love in the loving cup, Whenever you’re wrong, admit it; Whenever you’re right, shut up.” ~Ogden Nash

I have spent several weeks this winter in bed or recliner recovering from foot surgery. Preoperatively, my plans were to 1) Read loads of books. 2) Write loads of columns/blog posts. 3) Reorganize the closets. 4) Sort through a gazillion family photographs, and write on the back of each one. Postoperatively, I have managed to 1) Read only two books. 2) Suffer through the longest case of writer’s block I have ever had. 3) Halfheartedly reorganize two bathroom drawers. 4) Spread a gazillion photographs over the dining room table and kitchen counter. 5) Become hopelessly addicted to British reality TV, particularly the obesity shows. HE has been the busy one. Not only has he been going to work every day, he is doing the grocery shopping and cooking the meals, even giving me breakfast in bed the first few days. The first week, he actually dusted UNDERNEATH the couch, finding a few odd socks, stale dog treats, and a couple of toy trucks. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I rarely dust underneath the couch when I clean, but I think he (and anyone else who would happen to look there) could easily figure that one out. It hasn’t been too bad, really. I lie in the bed, foot up on a pillow with my electric blanket control in one hand and the TV remote in the other. My computer, phone, and a stack of unread books are within easy reach. He is also feeding and watering the chickens as well as gathering the eggs. I think the girls miss me as much as I miss them, because they are acting out by laying eggs all over the coop and he has to search for them, which he describes as his daily Easter egg hunt. If it weren’t for the limp, I could easily get used to this. We have been getting along splendidly with all this togetherness, too, without even the slightest disagreement. I am too relaxed to feel disagreeable, and if HE was, he’s done a good job keeping it to himself. If you ask HIM, though, he will probably tell you he is quite disagreeable about having family photographs spread all over his nice clean house. I think that the secret to a long and happy marriage is remembering those long-ago vows of caring for each other in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, in separate TV rooms, and keeping your mouth shut. If the vows didn’t go exactly like that, they should have.