Post-op awareness

Post-operative recuperative phase?  There isn’t any.  Not really.  I mean the eyes have to adjust and all but, really, it is nothing.  Lots of nothing.  A smidge too much of nothing, actually.

So much nothing a guy can get into trouble.

Seems you are not supposed to lift anything for a few days.  Eyes will pop out or something.  I dunno.  But I was happy to give up lifting for awhile.  Any excuse will do.  “So, Sal, could you lift my toast onto the plate?”

That might have been the first sign of trouble right there.……….

First day or so I may have pushed the envelope a bit but I didn’t do any lifting.  Stayed the course.  Sal did all the heavy lifting.  All the medium and most of the light stuff, too.   

Funny thing is that the day before I went to get operated on I visited a local sculptor to ask about rocks.  He was throwing out a few chunks of marble so I took ’em.  I kinda forgot that in a few days, I would not be allowed to lift ’em.

So Sal did it.

Kinda funny.

That may have added to the trouble a bit, too.

I like to think we are 50/50 partners, Sal and I.  I like to think I pull my weight.  I usually do the heavy stuff.  This was just a short vacation.  I also like to think that I am an equal-opportunity kitchen aid at the every least.  I cook.  I do the dishes.  I vacuum.  I’m good.  But, as I sat there watching her do all the stuff, I realized that I am not really the better half.  Not by half of a half.

When I do the dishes I always say, “Sweetie, you prepare the dishes and I’ll do ’em.” This is because some foods are saved and others are thrown out, some foods are wrapped in one thing, others are stored in something else.  Some get composted.  Some get thrown out for the gulls.  God only knows where everything goes afterward.  It is all way too complicated.  So, I take over the washing phase after all the sorting has been done. And I bask in the washing-up credit afterwards.

A little while later – when I was reading – I heard Sal putting all the dishes away.  She does that because I don’t know where all the dishes go.  OK, I don’t wanna know where all the dishes go.  Basically the same thing.

“It just dawned on me, sweetie.  Maybe I am not so much 50/50 after all.  I mean, you scraped and sorted the dishes and put the food away and now you are putting the dishes away.  I just washed ’em.” 

“This just dawned on you?”

“Well, yeah.  Kinda funny, really.  Don’t ya think?”


“Well, because I can’t do any heavy lifting right now, I was reflecting on my role here.  It occurred to me that I wasn’t doing much else except the heavy stuff.  But I at least cook, right?  I mean, I do sushi and pizza and toast, feed the dogs and I pour the wine.  It’s not much but not too bad, right?”

“Don’t get me started.”


“Well, when you do the sushi, I get all the ingredients out.  I prepare them.  You assemble them in sushi rolls and put ’em on plates.  OK, you heat the sake.  But then I do the dishes and put everything away.  Same for pizza.  You are like all the idiot guys who think they cook chicken because they barbecue.  The wife buys the chicken, marinates it.  Then she gets all the crap out and prepares it and then takes it out to the doofus who inhales chicken-smoke for half an hour and thinks himself a super-chef while the wife makes potato salad and everything else.  She does the washing up, too, while doofus-for-brains stands over the grill drinking beer.”

“Hmmmmmm. This is embarrasing.  I really should be better, shouldn’t I?  What are you gonna do next?

“The laundry.”

“Damn.  Sorry.  The basket is kinda too heavy for me right now, ya know?  Want some tea?”


2 thoughts on “Post-op awareness

  1. Post-op or not, I call this sort of savvy realization (newly found or not) ‘informed self interest,’ or if mama ain’t happy then…!


  2. Afterwards she said, “Now that you are aware of the discrepancy in the domestic work output, are you gonna do more around the house?”

    “Nah. I don’t think so. I’m good with the way things are. But, thanks. I will definitely be more appreciative, tho.”

    If looks could kill, eh?


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