I returned to work yesterday after having been away for the holidays. Three saved vacation days netted me something like 10 consecutive days away from the office, which I thought was an incredible value. To me, that seems like the kind of bargain the Puddinette's family would be very proud of.
I was very much looking forward to my vacation, having been "on loan" to a project that made me question the existence a benevolent God. Luckily, though, the Bad Project was finished with me and I was beginning transition to a new assignment. In addition, I was informed that there was a sparkly new PC in the building somewhere with my name on it and I had 10 days away from the office with which to pamper myself. It truly seemed a season of miracles.
Of course, then the vacation started in earnest and my dreams of self-pampering were immediately shattered. I don't think I had even slept in that first morning when the lovely and talented Puddinette prodded me awake and provided me with My List of Things. You see, there are Things in the life in an adult, Things that are difficult to accomplish when one is the parent of three small children and working a full-time job, simple Things like taking the dogs to the vet or the groomer, cleaning things and fixing things. I have a list of such Things; I will always have a list of such Things. I view the Things as a nice, quiet little pile of fuzzy critters that you take care of once in a while when you notice there are enough of them to warrent an afternoon's attention.
And here we've reached Puddin's Reason #976 Why Men and Women are Incompatible: Women, apparently, view the Things as ravenous, drooling heathens that, left unattended, possess the power to single-handedly destroy the well being of an entire household in matter of moments. Literally, I think they live in abject fear of an unaddressed list of Things.
So, while I had been planning to spend my vacation staying up late with video games and sleeping in the following morning while my Things piled up, the Puddinette, being a very logical and completely sensible wife, thought, why squander such a wonderful opportunity to get Things done, thereby providing safety and security from excess Things?
I was initially resistant, of course, hesitant to spend my vacation time enslaved to a tiny piece of yellow-lined note paper. Ultimately, though, I decided that I had little ground upon which to argue as it's likely that my assertion that vacations are intended to foster utter laziness would not have found much fertile soil in which to bloom. There are perhaps other men out there, better men than myself, who could compelling persuade their better half to get back to the laundry, the toddler wrangling, and the baby feeding while Daddy sleeps until a more respectable hour, like noon. However, as I have been cursed with a soul, a conscience, and a pale fear of Eternal Torment (defined as an Infinite List of Things), I conceded to apply myself to the list.
In the end, I did what I usually do when faced with these types of circumstance and no available diversionary tactic. I attended to some of the tasks and even crossed off enough of them to suggest that I was making revolutionary progress. Eventually, when I grew weary of toil and accomplishment, I dusted off the Mother's Failsafe Diversion. I suggested that I’d watch the kids while the Puddinette spend some time napping or in a steaming hot bath. I'd rather play with trains anyway, and nothing makes a woman forget the potential disasters looming on an unaddressed List of Things like bubble bath.
Hope everyone enjoyed their holidays. God help those of us returning to work this week.