Home. Work.

When I started this program my biggest concern was the amount of homework I’d have to do. It’s been years since I’ve taken a class and my study skills are a little rusty. Plus, having a full-time job with unpredictable hours adds another layer of challenge. Bill was super encouraging and really thought I should do it, and he promised to give me space to study and said he’d help me out with the dogs and the house.

So I did it. I signed up.

I’m doing the teacher training program through YogaWorks and they have a very regimented program. Before it started I was sent a list of books to buy, and the first day of class they handed out five manuals that cover everything from asanas to anatomy to philosophy. They will be more valuable than gold when I start to teach. But in the meantime, I have to slog my way through the assignments each week.

Before Saturday morning I have to read a couple of chapters in one of the anatomy books, there’s a reading assignment in the anatomy manual, a few chapters of philosophy, a few articles about teaching and two written assignments.

It’s a little more stressful than usual. Normally, class is every other weekend, but for some reason we start two weekends in a row, which means less time for homework.

I admit it—I procrastinated a bit. I didn’t do anything Monday night because I was so fried from the weekend. So last night I thought I’d tackle the anatomy stuff. Bill offered to go to the grocery store for me and I swooned with love. While he was gone I settled onto the bed, spread out my books, set up my laptop and got to work.

Barely a minute later, Bill walked into the house with the grocery bags and told me that he needed my help.

Sigh.

You have three bags of groceries and you need help? He had already brought them into the house, so I wasn’t sure what the problem was. Is it possible that he really doesn’t know where anything goes in the kitchen? Can’t be. It’s not like he never goes to the store. But he was harried and adamant. So I got up,  went into the kitchen and helped put stuff away.

I was still trying to be grateful for his help when I went back into the bedroom to start reading.

Bill followed me in—noting all the books strewn across the bed—and started belching loudly.

Apparently, because I returned to school, Bill decided to behave like he lives in a frat house.

I sighed. Loudly.

“Sorry. Am I bugging you?” he asked.

Duh.

I just smiled and tried to focus. You know, practicing being Zen.

“So…you’re studying in here?” he asked dubiously. “Because I’m going to bed soon.”

It was 8:15 p.m.

I was no longer swooning with love. I was irritated and wanted to rip his head off.

I figured I had until at least 10 o’clock, but after he changed clothes, he climbed into bed, lifting the covers, tossing my books all over the bed. The TV went on and he immediately sought out the most obnoxious fucking thing he could find on TV. I call it Gladiator Porn. It’s really called “Spartacus.”

Are you fucking kidding me? I almost screamed at him. How could you be so dense?

I held my tongue, but he sensed my agitation as I gathered up my shit and moved into another room. I could still hear the damn TV blasting fight scenes, but it didn’t seem to phase him because he can sleep to that stuff. I closed the door to the den and settled in with the dogs to study for the next three hours.

I get it—he didn’t sign up for this. I did. He’s not really such a shmuck, either—he’s dealing with a lot of stress right now and it’s all rapidly coming to a head, so I’m trying to be patient.

We’re going to have to make a few adjustments and work out a system. I need to establish a place to study and he has to respect it and my time.

I suspect it’s going to be a rocky six months.

 

 

 

 

 

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Comments

  1. Mary says

    Anyone that reads your blog knows that Bill is NOT a shmuck, and it’s good that you are mindful that he has to make adjustments too. You WILL get through this, both of you. xo

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