It’s fiscal year end at work, which means life will be extremely busy until the end of September. I’m talking stress. I’m talking pull-your-hair-out-insanity.
My husband is trying to convince me that I actually live for this… that I somehow thrive on the added pressure and hectic pace. I’m not convinced. Not convinced at all. I don’t like how tense I feel some days when I get home from work, and I’ve already apologized to Nate for any stressful outbursts he may endure during the next few weeks. (He accepted but said that I might have to apologize again, depending on how bad things get). 😉
It doesn’t help that I come home, still moving at the speed of light. If only there was a switch that I could throw, so that I could instantly settle down into a quieter pace.
Instead, I come home talking a mile a minute, as I rush around doing the chores that need to get done. Dinner, specifically, can be a bit frightening. I whirl around the kitchen and throw pots and pans around. Literally. By the time I had thrown the third pan to the ground, my husband came down from upstairs to make sure I was okay. I assured him that I wasn’t having a tantrum. I was just moving too fast, so everything was slipping from my fingers. Crash. Apparently metal strainers can make an irritatingly loud noise as well when they hit the ground.
Unfortunately, our dinner also slipped from my fingers and landed in a pot filled with hot, sudsy water. Nate, being the true blogger’s husband that he is, ran to get my camera. Thank goodness for cans of tuna, that’s all I can say. They’re just sitting in the cupboard, patiently waiting for the cook to throw dinner into soapy water so that they can be turned into tuna melts. Tuna, my hero.
And don’t even get me started on putting together a grocery list. When I started spouting off dinner ideas like hamburger helper and hotdogs, Nate looked at me warily and asked if I had a fever. No, I was just trying to rush through the list so that I could actually relax. So let’s just say I put aside that chore for tonight and hopefully will do a better job of slowing down and actually planning out meals that are made of real food.
But, as always, it’s in the craziness that I see just much I need my husband and his easy-going ways. Nothing phases him. Not a wife throwing pots and pans in the kitchen. Not chicken covered in soap suds. Not eating a tuna melt when his wife promised him chicken.
Move over, Tuna. Nate’s my hero. 🙂