May 21, 2013

My dearest,

We rise early in the morning. It’s a working day.

I get up first and switch off the air conditioner. I head into the bathroom and squeeze toothpaste onto both of our toothbrushes. I pull you out of bed and we brush our teeth together, your eyes still half-closed, slowly waking.

I finish before you and head out to the kitchen. I take the lemons out of the fridge and cut a few slices. I drop a couple of them into your water bottle for you to bring to the office, so you can have fresh lemon-flavored water all day.

You’ve read somewhere that drinking water infused with fresh lemon juice will help you lose weight. I had rolled my eyes when you initially told me but still I prepare your drink while you do some stretches in the living room every morning. And like clockwork, I always chuckle and say, “Don’t sprain yourself.”

We shower and then we are out of the door. I am always faster than you at getting dressed because I’m only wearing my track pants and a cardigan; maybe a cap if I can’t be bothered to do my hair. After all, you’re the one that has to go into the office, not me.

I am on chauffeur duties because I don’t have a day job. A friend gave me a notebook on my birthday which said on the cover “I’m not a bum; I’m an artist.”

Mostly I am a domestic supplies organizer (translation: groceries), home kitchen chef (I boil water and unwrap the pack of instant noodles before dropping them into the pot) and financial planner (I deposit checks at the bank).

My friends ask me when I’m going to get a job again and I say, “We’ll see.”

There doesn’t seem to be such a hurry when I am discovering that chopping onions and waiting in line at the supermarket isn’t that horrible after all. When you are doing something for a life you are building with someone you love, it doesn’t matter whether you are sitting in a cubicle or fetching the dry cleaning. Everything makes you happy if you allow it to.

We can be content doing anything. Who knew?

Yours, ever and always.