The Perfect Case Manager
My husband is my case manager, and am I ever a case to manage.
He sends me emails about renewing my medications. (Because we have to order them online and something always goes wrong and I end up yelling at the keyboard and pouting about how "they" are all "so stupid". If I don't take my simple meds, things go awry and let's not even talk about the $900 ambulance ride last Christmas. All because I ran out.)
He left work early the other day to pick up a new laptop when the repair shop called to let him know the old one was dead. He could have just let it stay dead. But no, he wanted me to have some new technology to yell at. We had like Windows 2 on the dead laptop. The new one has Windows 14 and a touch screen sensitive to sneezes. But I love it, once I learn the new keyboard and don't twitch I am sure it will work great!
He waits patiently for me to come to realizations. Like the refrigerator contents. I like to keep at least 4 packages of Parmesan on hand, and that's after a meal is prepared so we always need a stockpile. And what would Parm be without its best friend, Feta? Dittos on that inventory requirement. Then there are those fresh items I buy intending to start eating more salads. Sigh. Somehow they manage to instantly melt and sweat to the bottom of the crisper drawer. I require at least 7 boxes of frozen spinach as backup. You just never know when they will come in handy. Occasionally it occurs to me that a nice cheese platter is in order so there I go, stocking up on Gouda, Stilton and Brie. Sorry if I forgot.... So when he has waited a good six weeks for me to edit the fridge and it hasn't happened, he helps me by stacking all the contents on the kitchen counter. Usually right before company is expected or we are going out of town. But he's helping me.
He makes sure he has clean clothes and towels, since apparently I don't bathe and like to wear the same thing to be more convenient. He really pitches in. And by taking the burden of laundry off my shoulders, he has freed me up to crochet more and more when I get home from my clients.
He does not complain about the bags of yarn, piles of paper and markers strewn around my seat in the living room. He doesn't complain about the bits of yarn getting tread all over the house. He doesn't even complain about my laundry piles in the Guest Room. But when my piles get so high in the Master Bedroom that he trips, he calmly asks me to do something about that. And you know what? I do. I found these empty drawers in the dresser work out great for holding stuff like that. Sure, I know I have to hit the Guest Room with hangers and retrieve my uniforms. After all, we are having company next weekend.
He will even watch a couple of my favorite decorating shows with me every few days. It takes a lot out of him though, so I make up for it by watching some History with him on the weekends and learn about the value of an ancient Egyptian vase.
He handles all the bills. And usually without a peep. We can respect his financial responsibility and sleep soundly at night. Priceless.
He wants me to handle things on my own. SO that 2000 piece extra-hard jigsaw puzzle where each piece fits 4 different ways is all mine to conquer. And the nightly frustration is good for me to work through. It makes me stronger.
When he drives my car, he returns it with a full tank of gas. The other week it had been so long since I had pumped gas I forgot how to open the gas cap. What must those surveillance cameras have thought?
He makes sure to keep our milk and eggs in stock, and makes custom eggs for anyone in the house every single weekend. People come from near and far to experience his eggs. And he always makes his own eggs last. We call him the Egg Man.
He listens to my rants. At least I think he does. He never gets worked up though. SO maybe he is only pretending? Oh well. It's working. I feel heard. He doesn't want me to get too puffed up so he works hard not to laugh at my jokes or believe my conspiracy theories. But every once in while, I see the corner of his mouth start to bend up in admiration so I know I'm getting to him.
He doesn't bring work home, either. Heck, he spends so much time checking the news and texting during the day, I think he just doesn't let work get to him, period. His bosses like him so much they gave him an office to sit in just so others don't see what's on his screen, plus a promotion to go with it.
Being with me has literally made him long suffering. A couple of years ago, we tried living in a new state for a job for me. He commuted 11 hours every weekend in order to support me, often getting up at 2:00 a.m. to begin his drive. Six years ago, the summer I broke both feet and could only lay on the couch, he slept on the floor next to me so that when I had to go to the Loo in the middle of the night, he was right there to push my wheelchair.
He has always gone out of his way to support me during my career. He has altered his work schedule to accommodate mine, and really stepped up with the kids when I was traveling or taking grad school classes. He has equally cheered me on and gone to the mattresses for me.
The only thing he doesn't support is when I meet police officers who don't agree with my idea of what the speed limit should be. He just can't wrap his brain around the fact that I am such an astute driver.
With his support, I have been freed to rediscover and discover and stretch. Because of his support, I have had more fun in life and becoming me. He knows he got a creative ADD artist passionate about people and has loved me so well I get to do the things that fuel my soul.
Yes, you are the perfect Case Manager my husband. And I know, I am your perfect case! I love you back.
He sends me emails about renewing my medications. (Because we have to order them online and something always goes wrong and I end up yelling at the keyboard and pouting about how "they" are all "so stupid". If I don't take my simple meds, things go awry and let's not even talk about the $900 ambulance ride last Christmas. All because I ran out.)
He left work early the other day to pick up a new laptop when the repair shop called to let him know the old one was dead. He could have just let it stay dead. But no, he wanted me to have some new technology to yell at. We had like Windows 2 on the dead laptop. The new one has Windows 14 and a touch screen sensitive to sneezes. But I love it, once I learn the new keyboard and don't twitch I am sure it will work great!
He waits patiently for me to come to realizations. Like the refrigerator contents. I like to keep at least 4 packages of Parmesan on hand, and that's after a meal is prepared so we always need a stockpile. And what would Parm be without its best friend, Feta? Dittos on that inventory requirement. Then there are those fresh items I buy intending to start eating more salads. Sigh. Somehow they manage to instantly melt and sweat to the bottom of the crisper drawer. I require at least 7 boxes of frozen spinach as backup. You just never know when they will come in handy. Occasionally it occurs to me that a nice cheese platter is in order so there I go, stocking up on Gouda, Stilton and Brie. Sorry if I forgot.... So when he has waited a good six weeks for me to edit the fridge and it hasn't happened, he helps me by stacking all the contents on the kitchen counter. Usually right before company is expected or we are going out of town. But he's helping me.
He makes sure he has clean clothes and towels, since apparently I don't bathe and like to wear the same thing to be more convenient. He really pitches in. And by taking the burden of laundry off my shoulders, he has freed me up to crochet more and more when I get home from my clients.
He does not complain about the bags of yarn, piles of paper and markers strewn around my seat in the living room. He doesn't complain about the bits of yarn getting tread all over the house. He doesn't even complain about my laundry piles in the Guest Room. But when my piles get so high in the Master Bedroom that he trips, he calmly asks me to do something about that. And you know what? I do. I found these empty drawers in the dresser work out great for holding stuff like that. Sure, I know I have to hit the Guest Room with hangers and retrieve my uniforms. After all, we are having company next weekend.
He will even watch a couple of my favorite decorating shows with me every few days. It takes a lot out of him though, so I make up for it by watching some History with him on the weekends and learn about the value of an ancient Egyptian vase.
He handles all the bills. And usually without a peep. We can respect his financial responsibility and sleep soundly at night. Priceless.
He wants me to handle things on my own. SO that 2000 piece extra-hard jigsaw puzzle where each piece fits 4 different ways is all mine to conquer. And the nightly frustration is good for me to work through. It makes me stronger.
When he drives my car, he returns it with a full tank of gas. The other week it had been so long since I had pumped gas I forgot how to open the gas cap. What must those surveillance cameras have thought?
He makes sure to keep our milk and eggs in stock, and makes custom eggs for anyone in the house every single weekend. People come from near and far to experience his eggs. And he always makes his own eggs last. We call him the Egg Man.
He listens to my rants. At least I think he does. He never gets worked up though. SO maybe he is only pretending? Oh well. It's working. I feel heard. He doesn't want me to get too puffed up so he works hard not to laugh at my jokes or believe my conspiracy theories. But every once in while, I see the corner of his mouth start to bend up in admiration so I know I'm getting to him.
He doesn't bring work home, either. Heck, he spends so much time checking the news and texting during the day, I think he just doesn't let work get to him, period. His bosses like him so much they gave him an office to sit in just so others don't see what's on his screen, plus a promotion to go with it.
Being with me has literally made him long suffering. A couple of years ago, we tried living in a new state for a job for me. He commuted 11 hours every weekend in order to support me, often getting up at 2:00 a.m. to begin his drive. Six years ago, the summer I broke both feet and could only lay on the couch, he slept on the floor next to me so that when I had to go to the Loo in the middle of the night, he was right there to push my wheelchair.
He has always gone out of his way to support me during my career. He has altered his work schedule to accommodate mine, and really stepped up with the kids when I was traveling or taking grad school classes. He has equally cheered me on and gone to the mattresses for me.
The only thing he doesn't support is when I meet police officers who don't agree with my idea of what the speed limit should be. He just can't wrap his brain around the fact that I am such an astute driver.
With his support, I have been freed to rediscover and discover and stretch. Because of his support, I have had more fun in life and becoming me. He knows he got a creative ADD artist passionate about people and has loved me so well I get to do the things that fuel my soul.
Yes, you are the perfect Case Manager my husband. And I know, I am your perfect case! I love you back.
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