Not About England

The vacation is over. A week of being "parents" has returned husband and I to the primal state of survival of the fittest, kill or be killed, very man for him/her self. The fact that the World Cup is on TV EVERY DAY is not helping. Also the fact that being in a foreign country Husband is not going to get in the car and go someplace on his own . . . OH, wait, silly me . . . he doesn't do that when we are home. Bottom line, all this freaking togetherness is REALLY getting to me. 24/7 is not a healthy state to live in with your spouse so I am looking for one of you out there to volunteer to come get Husband and take him AWAY for a month or two. PLEASE !!!!!!!
Today we returned to the grocery store for the umpteenth time. It is the only place I know how to get to. Of course Husband came along and clutched the dashboard the whole way. I thought about going alone but it is like leaving a small puppy home. They look at you with those big, sad eyes and you just can't walk out the door without them. Once we get to the store it is TORTURE to shop. I am followed a foot away so every time I stop I get plowed into. Forget trying to turn around. I have tried giving the cart to Husband but then I get my ankles smashed every couple of minutes. "Focus" is not in Ger's vocabulary. Along with the physical abuse I have to put up with the endless questions like, "Why are you getting that?" "Can I get something for you?" Where would I find that?" (If I knew the answer to that question I would get it myself!) The HELP is more work than it is worth.
Then when we are finished shopping and are on our way home I have to reward the Husband with a treat. Usually this is some sort of "Fast Food" because Heaven forbid we should go home and eat some of the healthy food I have just bought. Today's stop was at KFC. (Yep, the Colonel has made it across the pond.) When we get home Ger brings in all the groceries and pulls them all out of the bags, leaving them on the counter tops and the bags on the floor. By now he is exhausted and has returned to the TV set all proud of himself for having done so very much to help.
I, on the other hand have gone up stairs, into the bath room and stuffed a towel in my mouth so I can scream! Once I can catch my breath again I pop a happy pill or two and continue on with the day. Picking up Abby from school is a similar experience except that the extent of "help" is limited to walking with me to and from the school. This trip is accompanied by the various questions, "Does Abby have her lunch? Does Abby have her water? Did you put sun screen on Abby? Did you sign her book list? . . ." This morning I waved my hand in Husbands face and asked him if he saw my hand, because it was about to slap him silly if he asked me one more thing. He got that message but I am sure tomorrow will just be more of the same.