This year, under the Christmas tree, there was a huge box with my name on it. I couldn’t imagine what was in it. My husband claimed, “It’s something you’ve always wanted.” Still no idea. When I opened the flat-screen television, complete with DVD player, I wondered if this was one of those presents you buy for your spouse when it’s really for you, like lingerie. Then, he declared, “A TV for the bedroom.”
He was right. I had always wanted one. After living in studio apartments the better part of my twenties, I imagined watching movies from the comfort of my bed for the rest of my life. But my husband had forbidden it early on, insisting it was inappropriate. Therefore, twelve years into our marriage, receiving this present was bittersweet.
Even though my New Year’s resolution was to embrace technology, I resisted the new television, as if turning it on meant turning my love life off. But then, I got sick. I spent the better part of the week in bed, nursing a cold and, of course, watching TV.
Since life goes on whether mom has a cold or not, I loaded up on Advil and caffeine. When I got home from the orthodontist, library, and dance class with a pizza for dinner, the table was set, the dishwasher emptied, and the hamper moved in front of the washer. Laundry normally would have gotten done that day, but I had ignored the dirty clothes overflowing in the wicker basket, focusing on the Cold-eeze in the cabinet instead.
“You gathered the laundry. Thanks.” I hated this task, as it meant lugging three cumbersome hampers throughout the house. Then, I heard the whirring of the washing machine during our meal and realized it was running. “Are you actually doing the wash?” I asked in total disbelief.
My daughters exclaimed so much praise my husband was almost offended. “Is it that surprising?”
Ah, yeah.
After I tucked in the girls, I climbed into bed to experience the healing powers of the new television. During a commercial break, I snuck to the dryer so my husband wouldn’t see me clean out the lint filter and put the wet towels on for a second cycle. When Grey’s Anatomy ended, I got up to take some medicine and witnessed my husband sorting laundry. He looked so cute folding my four-year-old’s dress, I could have kissed him. If I hadn’t felt like crap, I might actually have turned off the TV.
Victoria Winterhalter is a freelance writer, whose blog, Befriending Forty, chronicles what happens when the person you thought you’d be meets the person you actually became. Help her countdown to 40 on her BefriendingForty blog.
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