The weekend proved to be quite productive.

As some of you know, Mike works every Monday, Wednesday, Friday and a couple of Saturdays a month. Now before you wonder, “Why doesn’t he work full-time?”, let me tell you: he does and then some. These days consist of him arriving at the shop by 7am and usually not returning home until after 9:30pm. Sometimes these days entail plumbing calls nearly halfway across the state to Madison and back and then down to the Illinois border and maybe a quick one up in Sheboygen. For those of you unfamiliar with Wisconsin geography, this means a LOT of driving. Anyway, it’s not so bad: afterall, he’s off on Tuesdays and Thursdays so the dogs aren’t alone so much and last week he did the dishes, ran some errands, and cleaned the bathroom while I was at work. I can handle that! But I confess, I do miss him on those lonely weeknights. Especially Fridays. See, Fridays are a little different because of a crotchety old dispatch woman who has threatened to sue the company if she slips on the ice while walking to her car at midnight. So guess who gets to wait with her every Friday night, just so that she has someone to hold on to while she makes the oh-so-dangerous trek to her car at the end of her shift? Yes, that would be my husband.

Therefore, my Friday night this week consisted of a night with the girls at Buffalo Wild Wings and then what was going to be a quick drink at O’ Sullivan’s, a recently opened Irish Public House not far from Mike and my place. Of course, one drink turned into two and you know how it goes. After trying a Blind Russian for the first time (it’s good!) and almost getting into a fight with the bartender’s son (ask if you want to know the story and maybe I’ll tell in a future post), I headed home a little after midnight, just in time to say hi to my husband before we both fell asleep.

Saturday consisted of a father/son-in-law building project. In the house we’re renting, there is a small cinder-block walled room in the basement. Not very large, maybe good for some storage or a tiny guest bedroom. Since Mike and I both seem to have hobbies which take up quite a bit of table space, we decided that this would be our workshop. Once my dad caught wind of the words “building” and “work benches”, he started diagramming the benches he’d help us make and squirreling away pieces of scrap wood. It kind of warmed the heart seeing the two of them down there, figuring out how to use some of Mike’s new “toys” he had gotten for our wedding and solving the problems of the world. While the boys worked hard, I headed to the grocery store and then vowed NEVER to go again on a Super Bowl weekend. Other than the confused men standing in the middle of what seemed like every aisle, the deli clerk wiping his nose with his gloved hand, and the bagger busting my bag of bird seed, I would say the trip went quite smoothly. And when I returned, the work benches were finished and looked perfect. I am nowvery much looking forward to “setting up shop” with all of my stained-glass supplies!

Then came Sunday. Sunday was Mike’s day to be on-call at work, which usually means he WILL get called in. So Mike and I both sat in church that morning, praying that his pager would not start vibrating and hoping for a quiet day at home. Shortly after the service, the page came in and we rushed home. Mike left and I was disappointed. I spent the day paying bills, doing four loads of laundry, cleaning out the fridge, taking Chetany for a walk, and filing our important paperwork from the past two months. The weather was gorgeous and it felt good to get so many of the projects I had put off done. Mike made it home in time for most of the game and we were finally settled in. Shortly after the Cardinals gave up the game, we set up the DVR for The Office and gave into our fatigue from the day’s work.

At 3:30am, we awoke with a start to the much hated beep of an all-too-familiar pager. Honestly, who wakes up at three in the morning and notices water in their basement? It actually turned out to be a somewhat elderly couple who told Mike that they just couldn’t fall asleep knowing that it was there…gotta feel a little sympathetic, I suppose yet it’s very hard for me to be sympathetic when I’m awakened at 3:30 in the morning. Stumbling to the kitchen, I reached for all of the sandwich fixings I use for Mike’s lunches and proceeded to stumble through the lunch-making process. Chances were, he would be out on this call for the next several hours and then slide right into the regular schedule of the day. And everyone knows: A hungry man is a very unhappy man.

So it is now Monday. And I am tired. But happy. In this struggling economy, both my husband and I have a job. And we now both have work benches. And groceries in the house. And for all of these things, I am very thankful.