Any long-married woman will
tell you that husbands are made, not married. So, Cuthbert, which is
what I call mine when my gorge is rising, need only look out the back
door and if I'm practicing semaphore signalling with the axe sitting 2 feet from this monitor he knows that it's a good time to get in his truck and go see a movie. For you see, I don't believe in divorce. I'm old-school in that way. I believe in murder.
Psych.
We, the First Spouse and I are getting ready to become empty nesters. Fifteen and 1/2 years after our wedding day. Thirteen years after Daughter No. 1 left for college. And 5 years after Daughter No. 1 and boyfriend (now Husband of Daughter No. 1) moved out again after the requisite I-can't-afford-to-live-in-New-York-and-pay-rent sojourn. (Don't laugh; with the way this economy's going, it can happen to you.)
We live in a very small house, by choice. If you're not careful you can open the front door and knock yourself into the staircase. When sober. So, it takes practice and practice we've gotten along with my sister, and Beloved Niece No. 1. We have been living together as a family full or part-time for 4 years. A menagerie of 2 bulls, a ewe and a little lamb. Hardly pastoral; rarely easy-going but often manageable. (That previous sentence is classic NYTimes Grey Lady writing. Deracinated of any drama. Guess you'll just have to read my memoir, The Bachelor's Long-Suffering and Saintly Wife.)
Sister and Niece are moving soon to their own place and we will have a home to ourselves of our own. Husband No. 1 and I are both looking forward to this new phase and while it won't be a miracle cure for all that ails our marriage we both know it's got to help. A lot.
Psych.
We, the First Spouse and I are getting ready to become empty nesters. Fifteen and 1/2 years after our wedding day. Thirteen years after Daughter No. 1 left for college. And 5 years after Daughter No. 1 and boyfriend (now Husband of Daughter No. 1) moved out again after the requisite I-can't-afford-to-live-in-New-York-and-pay-rent sojourn. (Don't laugh; with the way this economy's going, it can happen to you.)
We live in a very small house, by choice. If you're not careful you can open the front door and knock yourself into the staircase. When sober. So, it takes practice and practice we've gotten along with my sister, and Beloved Niece No. 1. We have been living together as a family full or part-time for 4 years. A menagerie of 2 bulls, a ewe and a little lamb. Hardly pastoral; rarely easy-going but often manageable. (That previous sentence is classic NYTimes Grey Lady writing. Deracinated of any drama. Guess you'll just have to read my memoir, The Bachelor's Long-Suffering and Saintly Wife.)
Sister and Niece are moving soon to their own place and we will have a home to ourselves of our own. Husband No. 1 and I are both looking forward to this new phase and while it won't be a miracle cure for all that ails our marriage we both know it's got to help. A lot.
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