I received a dishwasher for Christmas.  After 28 years of washing dishes, I finally got my very own dishwasher.  I used to wonder if  I was the only person left in the world washing dishes by hand.  In my saner moments, however, I knew that in reality, hand washers probably far out-number those who have the luxury of  hiding their dirty dishes away, to later retrieve clean, sparkly dinnerware.

But guess what?  I’m still a hand washer.  Not by choice, mind you, but because 5 whole months later, my dishwasher is still sitting in a corner of my dining room, where it magically appeared on Christmas Eve.

Now, most women would undoubtedly be fit to be tied by now.  I, on the other hand, have lived in this continuum for the last half of my life, so I am confident that I will be using my not-quite brand-spanking new anymore dishwasher by this next Christmas.

My husband is my Favorite Person on this earth, second only to my mama.  And as his title deems necessary, I have accepted his shortcomings, (as I thank God every day that he returns the favor!) and I try -some days harder than others- to take his tardiness in stride.

His job consumes almost every one of his waking moments, so by the weekend, he is so exhausted, that he has trouble finding the energy to play handyman.  While I know the reason, I still have difficulty holding my tongue and not urging him to fix something.   I also know that all of these little jobs – If I don’t do them first – will eventually get done, I just need to show some patience.

Sometimes I compare my life with those of some of my friends, and even though they each possess something (a skill, personality trait, swimming pool) that I would like to have, I would still rather have my tired husband and my family and home – even our dimwitted dog – any day.

So, is the grass really greener, or is it just my imagination?

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