My husband is a workaholic. I picked him up last night after he has been away working interstate for three days and he had his mobile phone glued to his ear. The sight of Paul with his mobile phone glued to his ear now immediately raises my blood temperature. Saturday morning brunchs, Sunday evening dinners, any time any where our peace is interrupted by another "important work calls". I can hardly say it is romantic.
And another thing. The washing piles up, the garden is overgrown, and I continually feel it is just me here in this marriage to run the house, do the chores, and keep domesticity ticking over. Hardly a role I have chosen for myself, rather it has been thrust upon me. Some call us "The Wilderness Society Widows" as we greenie wives have lost our husbands to the the endless black hole of energy that is the environment movement.
Ok that is enough whinging. It is off my chest now - time for me to sneak in another load of washing and perhaps a twenty minute break from work to do more whippersnippering of our urban jungle. Oh the joys of working from home.
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