Togetherness

This tale of "togetherness" appeared in the Chicago Daily News. It was written by a woman who was struggling with her own special "me and my shadow" problem. She wrote:

I've heard of the problems newly retired men and their wives face when confronted by too much togetherness, and I was always amused at the way they so often get on each other's nerves. I never thought I'd face such a problem, but it's been two months now and matters around here are pretty bad.

I ran out of patience that first Monday. There we were, the two of us. Dave busied himself by following me around, inquiring into my household routines. I tried to be pleasant, but my surly nature surfaced when he asked, "Why don't you vacuum all the way under the bed?" I've tried to interest him in any number of activities, with little success. I've even shouted the merits of daytime TV. "What you really need is a job," I told him, knowing he'd never be able to find one at his age.

Yesterday was typical. Dave and I spent the morning together, as always now. He sat looking out the window for a while, sighing intermittently. Then he came into the kitchen, "When are we having lunch?", he wanted to know. This is at 8:30! We went, lockstep, to the bedrooms, where he watched me make the beds. To his query, "What should we do now?", I snarled, "How about a duel with sabers?" A lengthy discussion followed of my system of sorting wash. I don't like to sort wash -- much less talk about it!

The situation is getting to me. You'd think that someone with so much intelligence, someone I truly love, would not be so totally annoying when faced with a change in routine. Ah well, my problem won't last forever. Next fall Dave will be in kindergarten.