Earlier this week I realized that through some freaky scheduling mistake, I had all Friday morning off. No work! That never happens. So I made big plans. Huge plans. Plans for a lazy morning, possibly some reading, maybe a nap. Lots of excitement.

So all week I was looking forward to Friday. Counting down the days. Imagine my shock on Thursday when I got the following email from my husband:

Hi hon. I’m taking Friday off, I’ll work from home half the day then work around the house. Love you.

You’ve got to be kidding me. Don’t get me wrong, I love my husband, and even enjoy having a day off with him once in awhile. But I’d been looking forward to my alone time all week! (Imagine me saying that in a very whiny voice, cause I am whining.)

The thing is, I have a  husband who is, how shall I say this, a workaholic. Not just any old workaholic, but the man loves to do housework. Well, he actually has said that he doesn’t love housework, he just wants it done, and if I’m not doing it…..well, you get the picture. He’s a worker bee and a perfectionist,  and a bit of a task master when it comes to cleaning. There’s no sloppy vacuuming or quickly swiping a dust rag around. It’s done right or by gosh it’s done over. And talk about thorough. If I so much as mention cleaning, he’ll start talking about moving furniture, cleaning under beds that haven’t been moved in years.  He’s also a pro at the laundry, again out of necessity. That guy actually takes the clothes out of the dryer and puts them away immediately.  

I know that having a husband who willingly helps out with the cleaning is a great thing, I just was so looking forward to a rare lazy morning. 

Oh well. My house did need a good cleaning, and he did take me to lunch, so I can’t complain. Well, I could, but I won’t.

Funny how I’m more tired after my “day off” than I was before.

 

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