Month Fifty


Dear Husband,

I think I am going to have start calling you Nosy Nora.

You know those busy bodies that always seem to know what is going on in their street? Those stereotypical old biddies who sit by their window and spy on the comings and goings of their neighbours? Those terribly conscientious individuals who are the first to call the police at the slightest infraction to cross not their path (it wouldn’t even need to be that close!) but their broader awareness? Well, I never thought that I would be married to one.

I swear, sometimes you seem to have your nose glued to the window pane as you stick your head behind the curtains to sticky beak at whatever is going on in the street. Granted, your attention is usually centered towards one particular house rather than the whole lot of them but at the slightest noise, you are right there, checking it out. I just hope we have not ended up with the reputation of being those busy body neighbours!

But when I am not calling you Nosy Nora, I think I will have to start calling you Feeble Phoebe.

It feels like you have been sick for ages. On and off from one week to the next, there always seems to be a couple of days when something is wrong. Your digestion system doesn’t seem up to the task, you are too lethargic and exhausted, you have too much tension or maybe another splitting headache. Sometimes several different symptoms at the same time! I should be more sympathetic, I know, but…well…for a while this month, you were even convinced that you had diabetes. So you went to the doctors, had a whole barrage of tests done and guess what? You were perfectly healthy!

And I mean perfectly healthy. All your levels were completely normal. Nothing spiked or dipped even slightly. Nothing was positive or negative when it should be the opposite. Despite the abuse that you have put your body through previously in your life, everything is working just as it should. You would think that this would make you happy. You were however somewhat disappointed to find out that nothing was “wrong”. Kind of seems counter intuitive, doesn’t it? I suppose you still feel bad but since apparently you are healthy, maybe you can fake it till you make it?

So to take your mind of your physical ailments, I can call you my Agony Aunt.

I have been venting to you about my job this month. My role and apparent job security suddenly became quite unclear. I felt like I was getting a few mixed messages and a number of vague ones which made me both frustrated and confused.  I was told my revised job share role wasn’t working out and that they were dispensing with it. Which would have been fine but for the fact that the person who was job sharing with me then began to perform the role on an almost full time basis.

Did they just not like me? That seemed unlikely as they appeared to want me to continue working for the company. Did they think I had done a bad job? If so, why didn’t they say anything? When faced with so many questions and the only firm answer to do I still have a job is yes for now but I can’t promise you will at Christmas, you were called upon to offer advice and support. A task that you undertook admirably.

Which is one of the reasons I am happy to call you My Husband.

Ever yours,

Your Loving Wife

* Photo taken during this year’s Vivid festival


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