Spring Break - Literally

I know 3 people who are going to Cancun for spring break. A few of my friends are going on a cruise. One of my best friends left for Rome last week. Do you want to know what I get to do? You ready for it? Well, my mother, who I love dearly, threw her back out. And guess who gets to spend the next week bending over and picking up things for her? Oh yes, it's me.

I just finished a load of wash. Ben vacuumed the carpet. Immediately after I threw a massive load into my mother's industrial-size washer, she called me over to turn her heating pad on - and wash the dishes, and fill up the dogs' water, and cook lunch. 

All of this isn't really an issue for me... except the dishes part. I kind of have this obsessive thing where I can't touch other peoples' dirty dishes, aside from my husband's and my own. Especially if they've been sitting in the sink immersed in water, so the dishes are filled with a grayish liquid suspension with little particles of food floating everywhere. Even the thought of it makes me shudder. In retrospect, I now realize why I was never tipped very well during my one job waiting tables - I must have had the most disgusted look on my face every time I took someone's nasty, spitty, guacamole-encrusted plate.

What a way to spend spring break.

After grimacing my way through half the dishes, Ben came to my rescue, blessedly scrubbing out the pots, namely the one I'd been avoiding with day-old canned corn lurking at the bottom. Yuck. Grinning at my obvious distaste, he wrapped an arm around my waist and led me out the front door.

"Where are we going?" I asked, not really caring, just relieved to be away from the contaminated food.

"To make you feel better," he said, taking the back of my neck between his fingers and rubbing, just how I liked.

We strolled in silence down the dirt road to the barn, my mom's corgi-chihuahua mix, Peanut, bounding excitedly alongside. Two fat horses stood in the pen beside the little tin building - a rotund palomino with dirt in his once-white mane, and an ancient roan who seemed to wobble precariously where he stood. Ben and I walked into the barn and retrieved three brushes - one for the mane, one to scrape off the winter coat, and one to massage - and a handful of butterscotch treats, then made our way to the horses. We fed and brushed them until both stood with their eyes-half closed and noses nearly touching the ground. Every few minutes, Ben would set his brush atop the roan's fat red and white back and would come give me a hug or a kiss on the forehead.

I don't like being broke. I don't like not being able to pay my rent without my parents' help, and I don't like having to worry every day that something is going to happen to make our lives simply fall apart. But on days like this, I'm glad that my husband is here. So he can spend time with me, like this. Sure, it doesn't make anything better. But it makes me forget about everything going on in my life, just for a little while.