In a hundred years from now…
Good morning from cloudy Vermont. You may be wondering why I missed my first blog. It’s simple, really. When we transferred our phone and internet services to Soft Landing, Comcast went down nationally. It took several days to get us up and running again. This week I’ll blog twice, today, and then on Saturday or Sunday morning during my regular slot.
Eva and Finn are fighting. They aren’t throwing things at each other, but they’re feeling like it. One of them has to take the day off from school or work to be home for a repair regarding a new heat exchange system, and both feel that their time is more important. Finn needs to meet a high-end client; Eva has six classes at UVM and is prepping for finals. In the end, after an angry exchange, Finn tells her that since his parents are paying for the air exchange system, and since he’s bringing in the income that keeps them afloat, it’s Eva’s duty to stay home. And besides, he says, “In a hundred years, no one will tell the difference.”
Finn’s comments drive Eva wild. She slams the kitchen door and heads out to the Adirondack chairs for a good think. She’s never felt so patronized or minimized in her life, and this is the person she’s chosen as a life mate? Not good.
My husband and I have been in this situation before, each feeling that our day’s obligations are more important than the other. Since I have sick leave and vacation time built up, I usually take our girls to their appointments, etc. And even though I know if Tim takes time off he doesn’t get paid, sometimes I chafe at being the one to accommodate my work schedule to our life situations. I’ve been a librarian in enough online gender classes to know that women get short shifted when it comes to childcare and responsibilities. I don’t have any answers. And I’m grateful that I’m privileged to have the time to take. And of course I’d do anything for my family. But still…I guess I just want to start the conversation for Eva and Finn before they decide to further their relationship.
Soft Landing is the sweetest home I’ve known. At the end of the day, I find myself with time to sit down and write, read, even play my dad’s Taylor. Because there’s no maintenance, because there’s a dishwasher, because this place is much smaller, I’m not tearing my hair out trying to keep up. Meanwhile at Schoolside, we’re gearing up for our big moving sale, and continue to hoe out and sort. I’ve weeded out the flower pots from the garden shed, and Saturday I’ll finish deciding on linens and whether or not I should keep working on my rag rug. Do I really need to keep that huge bag of cloth scraps?
As I close, I wonder. Do you also face the challenge of who stays home? Check back this weekend for another version of Finding Home.