There’s a phrase to stir the imagination: fighting the good fight. Can a fight ever be good? Well, I suppose protecting someone perhaps. Maybe also a gang of mink escaping to give their captor a brief nip, or a lady of advancing years firmly and proudly belting a young mugger firmly in the happy sacks. Perhaps they could fall into said category.
Of late I’ve been having some issues in the nose/lung department. Nothing serious, just a case of the miles on the clock adding up, and my snoring – yes, how delicate and oh-so-femme (warning: that was meant ironically 🙂 ), is not great. To allow the Ever Lovely Mrs J to get a good night’s kip, I am often in the spare room. I don’t really like this because I get lonely when we’re apart. While I tell myself we would only be asleep so what does it matter, a little part of me feels, well, the distance and much as this temporary arrangement is working for us, it stings a little.
Which fight am I fighting then? Never let it be said I don’t go around the houses a few times before getting to the point. 🙂 In separate rooms comes more privacy, and with more privacy comes the opportunity for deception. Yes, I did say that word, and no, I’m not proud of it.
As I started to drift off the other night, my mind settled, and on the cusp of sleep, the thought arrived: if you’re apart, you could shave your legs.
My eyes were already shut, and I felt myself sigh. Yes, I thought, I could, but this is part of The Agreement, and much as I’m not a fan of Wookie pins, I am conscious that the Ever Lovely Mrs J also married a guy, not someone in-between. These are my words, by the way, not hers.
The thought has swung in and out like a comet on a wide orbit. Occasionally skimming by and leaving a trail of ideas, cover-ups, dodges, wishes, and dreams. However, I know that from when I did my arms – a few years back – I am somehow ‘on guard’ trying to ensure I don’t get caught out. Okay, so benefits would be legs that feel more like they should, with the massive downsides of upsetting my wife, possibly freaking the kids out (should they see), and, of course, the necessary watchful vigil to ensure secrecy. That seems very far from ideal and just not worth the price.
So, I continue to push the idea away regardless of what subterfuge my subconscious brings to the fore. Not so much anything for a quiet life, but me trying to respect the boundaries we’ve agreed. It ain’t always easy being part-time. The juggle between keeping what’s inside from changing the outside.
Maybe I just need a holiday 😉