Oh the things I do for my husband…
For the past few weeks we have had crazy rain in Connecticut. There’s been rain, hail, power outages, lightning, and now, mushrooms. Apparently a lot of rain can cause mushrooms to flourish and they have decided to flourish on our front lawn. Chris thinks this is God testing him.
He’s always been the kind of person who takes a lot of pride in his work. He’s been that way since high school. It’s actually one of the things that I like most about him. He is dedicated and wants everything he does to be done well. This includes homeownership. To him, our house is not just where we live, but it is how we represent ourselves. And, therefore, the mushrooms must die.
“Its okay, Chris,” I said. “No one is judging you for your lawn.”
“Yes they are,” he responded. “They are judging me for my mushroom infested yard.”
It was all he talked about. And then he got all crazy and started freaking out about the yard in general. We have been spending so much time working on the inside and it has been raining so much lately that the yard looks a little rough. So yesterday after work, I heard him outside trimming the shrubs and pulling weeds. And I had to go help him. First, I had to go because he was in the front yard and I didn’t want the neighbors to think that I was a lazy beast (even though I am) who makes her husband be her yard boy. And second, I have a crush on him and want to impress him with my mad gardening skills. So I put on my purple gardening gloves and WITHOUT EVEN BEING ASKED, I go into the front yard and start picking mushrooms.
That’s right. I picked up fungus because I love my husband.
I wish I could say it was a labor of love because I knew how important it was to Chris, but it wasn’t. I hated every minute of it and gagged the entire time. But I did it. Because I love him. And because if fungal rot is killing Chris, then I shall kill the fungal rot.
And because for the rest of the night I got to say, “Honey, since I picked up the rotting dead fungus in our yard, do you think you could feed the dogs/rub my feet/bring me an ice cream cone?”
Marriage. Its a game of sacrifices. And I’m winning.