It’s not just about the girls leaving the nest. It’s also about what happens in the nest now that they are gone. While I could say, “What happens in the nest, stays in the nest.”, that’s only a certain part of the nest. The rest of this rustic country homestead is almost comical to me sometimes.
The silence can be deafening. However, stating that we communicate without ever having to speak a word is a good defense. Do we know each other so well that:
– If I come home to a dinner he cooked, I know by default that I have clean up duty?
– If he takes the dog out, I get to clean up the fur balls?
– If he’s getting the wood stove started, I’m getting the laundry folded?
– If he brings in the mail repeatedly night after night, I get to sort, toss, pay and repeat?
– If the cat is on his lap, then it’s automatically my turn to get the drinks?
– If he unclogs the kitchen drain, I get to clean the toilet?
– If he is nice enough to take out a new roll of toilet paper (and leave it on the counter?!), I get the privilege of putting it on the roll?
If we keep rolling with the punches like this, one of my fears is that one of us will eventually roll out of the nest. If not, I suppose we both might just fall down laughing…and then have to move into another room.