Phew!

It's non-stop around here. My Mom tells me that I've always been a hard worker, and I believe her. However, I think I've usually just done it for show. You know, I always help you move, carry the stacks of folding chairs to the reception site, move piles of bricks from the front of the house to the back. Un-sustained, momentary outbursts of elbow-grease to prove my friendship. And? Masculinity? Who knows, but I definitely filled the in-between times with all-day marathons of Road Rules/Real World "The Gantlet."

Well, Ash, he's indefatigable. Honestly, he wakes up when the alarm goes off at seven and GETS OUT OF BED even though there's no way he's going to get fired for being late and waters the garden. I lay there, in the softest bed part of the day, hoping that he'll discover new and uncharted areas of the yard to water, areas that are at least 17-23 minutes away. But he doesn't. And everyday he asks me, "are you going for a walk today, Laurel?" And I fake awakeness and "you caught me mere seconds from hoping out of bed unpromptedness" and put my "sloppy joes" on as he calls them for our morning walk.

We come home, have breakfast and then work-he in the workshop and me in the office. I join him down in the workshop to do some grunt work until lunch. Eat. He gardens. I walk around trying to figure out how to start gardening. We work and listen to "This American Life" or Jim Moira on the National Program. We talk about dinner. We make dinner. I do more office work. He goes down to the workshop. I have a bath around 9 or 10 and get into bed. He works. And works. If the cricket's on he works some more.

Finally he comes to bed, and then we do it all over again. This pattern will continue while the days are long and the galleries are busy. I don't understand how he does it, but I sure am glad he does. It's fun to be a part of it, I hope it lasts.