THIS WAS NOT IN THE PRENUP
I love my husband, I really do. He is a good man. He brings me coffee in the morning, keeps me warm at night and maybe – once or twice a year – he empties the dishwasher. It’s the television I hate. The television is on morning through night. I am a light sleeper, need a pitch-black room to fall asleep. I do not want to hear the television and so when he wakes up in the middle of the night, which he often does, he retreats back downstairs to… fall asleep on the couch, television blaring. Oh, did I forget to tell you he’s hard of hearing?
Rarely do I find a television show that’s holds my interest. Sometimes a movie or series will catch my eye but that is short lived. It is the endless drone of media newscasters talking nonsense that drives me crazy. How many times must they repeat the same stories?
To me, retirement has been a blessing and a curse. After working decades, I now have time to enjoy the activities and hobbies previously lost to me. I paint, I read, I write, I even do an occasional jigsaw puzzle. And then the dreaded chimes of 2pm toll. We have an agreement; it is time for me to go inside and join him for endless hours of tv viewing. He wants me there on the couch beside him watching meaningless idiotic shows, his puppy eyes pleading for companionship. I try, I really do. I am very patient, I smile.
I have learned a powerful lesson; men do not view retirement the same way women do. Women can occupy themselves, independent of others. We never stop seeking knowledge, we yearn to try new things. Men are lost, yanked from the monotony of past employment now suddenly halted. My husband stares at the television not even hearing the words, mesmerized in his trancelike state. If I dare interrupt to ask a question or repeat a jingle or phrase, he is bewildered, torn momentarily from the screen.
I know we live in the same house, but our view of retirement is worlds apart. The television has become my daily dread. When he is gone, I will miss him, I really will. But the first thing I will do is rip that wretched machine from the wall and toss it to the curb. Joyfully.
Sent from the heart by a woman who loves her husband.