Or so I have to assume. It has to be exhausting lifting buses, racing trains, leaping tall buildings in a single bound. I mean, the paperwork alone has to be taxing on the brain after all of the bad guys capturing.
I’m in no way comparing myself to a superhero, far from it. I don’t even make a good homemaker. I could never live up to a June Cleaver or a Jill Taylor. Then I think of today’s single moms that keep it all together while working a full time job, transporting kids to athletics, cooking, cleaning, bill paying. Much respect, moms!
At the beginning of this year, I completely retired. No more working away from home. It was necessary as one more part of my body gave up on me. My wife said it was time. That’s a lot for both of us to shoulder. She is the primary bread winner. That’s a lot of stress. I carry a heavy load of guilt. Yet, we survive.
I get the granddaughters ready for school in the morning and drive them to the bus stop. Then my day begins. I cook, I clean (not always well), I garden, I fix things, I break things, I coordinate doctor visits, attempt to write, and anything else that I can do to make sure my wife doesn’t have to. Most of the time.
Today, I barely did any of those things. Yes, dinner will be made after this post, but beyond that and picking the last of the green beans, I’ve done nothing. I’m tired. I’m sick. I’m sore. The buses and trains will have to wait. I’ve run ragged for months, some days more than others, but ragged nonetheless.
I’ll bounce back. I always do. I have people depending on me. I have a wife who deserves top effort every day. Well, today, this has been my top effort. Surely Superman takes some recharge time, Wonder Woman visits a day spa once in a while. Heck, even the bad guys kick back in a big comfy chair and use pet therapy cats.
Today, I’m the bad guy. My cat has been curled up in my lap in between bathroom breaks. I’ll save the day tomorrow.
Let’s talk soon …
The Renaissance Maniac 