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The Fruits Of His Labor

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When I take a good long look at things, I guess I’m more of a pessimist and H is an optimist.

He procrastinates getting things done, while I want results immediately. I’m still waiting on new front and back doors and two closet doors. They aren’t as high on his agenda as they are on mine.

There are articles in this house – and outside – that do not need to be here. He doesn’t mind weaving in and out around large pieces of furniture we don’t need or use. I do.

I love to mark through things on a list. It makes me feel as though I’ve accomplished something. I make him lists of the things we need to get done around here, but he tends to ignore them and has a plan of his own that doesn’t usually include my list.

He putters around the yard and babies his plants that I see as dead or dying. Last year I laughed at the twig he called a fig tree. We had moved it from the backyard to the front yard so it could receive more sun and it lost all its leaves, making it look as though there was a dead twig in the ground. Granted it’s only about ten inches tall, but look at it now. I was wrong. I’m sorry.

Now I’m wrong again. H has carted this pineapple plant in and out of the cold weather for at least four years. It’s prickly and he always seems to put it where I get stuck when walking past it.

There is hardly enough room in this house for us, much less, plants that need to come in for the winter months like the snowbirds who show up in town every year as soon as snow starts falling in the north. I begged him to either put it in the ground or get rid of it. I had no faith this plant would ever bear fruit and when he excitedly called me outside to look at his two pineapples this morning, I had to eat my words.

There is still the matter of that fence that needs to be removed from the backyard. It’s on his list.

~Elle

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