The Honey Maybe List

[Warning! There are a number of numerical references throughout this column which may bring about ugly math class flashbacks. Use caution when reading.]

Fortunately, after 14,610 days, 6 hours, and… 38…39 minutes of marriage, my starter husband — who looks to be a finisher — and I still like each other.

This is the case even after the life-changing event that occurred, slamming us together in unrelenting physical togetherness 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. (And, no, I’m not talking about the large worldwide event that rhymes with systemic.)

The event to which I’m referring is…duhn, duhn, duhn…his retirement.

Yea, it has been approximately 755 days, 14 hours, and…12…13 minutes since my husband superannuated. While our union has not been without expectation, his retirement has taken it to a whole new “honey do” level.

You see, initially, my significant other’s post-working-full-time plan consisted of focusing 100% on his music career rather than the previous 50/50 musician/social worker ratio he rocked — and, yes, rolled — for a few decades.

While the man now has more gigs than you can shake a tambourine at, I feel his plan needs to include my honey do’s. Why? Because that 100% gigging seems to take up 25% of his time.

I know this because I work full-time from home, so when I jog by his man cave on the way to my 3-second bio break he’s in the middle of a nap, watching golf or a combination thereof. Therefore, he has plenty of bandwidth for my daily specials. (That statement is actually excerpted from our conversation.)

After our spirited discussion about “Honey Maybes” versus “Honey Do’s” we came to an understanding. But even I can admit my lists are daunting. There’s something else I can admit. They’re weird.

While regular Honey Do Lists consist of household repairs or chores, mine are more — oh, what’s the word? — eclectic.

We begin every weekday — after all, I’m not a monster, my groom does need weekends off — with me creating a normal list. Even though I start with the most innocuous tasks, it spirals from there. I’ll show you what I mean.

This is an actual list with actual instructions and commentary. I only provide the latter when needed, but you’ll notice “when needed” represents about 80% of my requests, give or take.

1. Bury lizard. (You’ll find him laid out respectfully next to the bowlful of water on the indoor-outdoor turf where I found him submerged and non-responsive. Sidebar: We need more menthol-infused tissue.)

2. Change batteries in my magnifying mirror. (Note: It’s the 10x magnifying mirror on my dressing table, not the 5x magnifying wall mirror over the sink, nor the 25x magnifying pull-out mirror on the closet door.)

3. Artfully arrange new solar lights in the Yoga Hill garden area.

4. Untangle necklaces. (Remember: You’re in it to win it!)

5. Purchase lavender mint goat soap (Please…no substitutions.)

6. Cut the wrong-sized gel foot pad insert, so it fits into my purple trainers.

7. Water all sunflowers in the sunflower nursery. (Please sprinkle them with water as opposed to pressure washing them with the hose as though you’re removing paint from the side of a barn.)

8. Check behind the greenhouse to see if there’s a snake.

Update: It wasn’t a snake, but rather a very snaky-looking and stressed out lizard. Perhaps it was the brother of the RIP lizard for which we provided a beautiful species-friendly service. We can’t know for certain.

9. Locate stripy petunias like the ones I planted in the yellow and blue pots near the brick patio. (Please…no substitutions.)

10. Retrieve the purple plastic pitcher from the second branch of the peach tree. (Don’t ask.)

11. Find and purchase the melon drink I said I liked the other night when we were at that restaurant.

12. Remove wads of pine tree pitch from the bottom of my favorite flip flops. (Before you ask: I don’t know.)

13. Get my favorite shabby chic green vase off the kitchen shelf that faces the fridge. (I’m just asking: Might we stop placing this freaking thing on the highest shelf which makes me feel like I’m scaling Mt. Kilimanjaro when I try to retrieve it, both having the same potentially disastrous consequences for me? Signed, Your Sugar Mama.)

And in a stunningly thematic twist…

14. Buy local honey for allergy relief (Please…no substitutions.)

So, in conclusion…oh, no. Wait a minute. Is that a lizard the cat just brought into the house? Hold on, dear reader.

I’m going to need to add this to my late-breaking, afternoon Honey Do List.

“Determine the last known whereabouts of the lizard Mr. Snoodles brought into the house…”

Originally published at https://www.linkedin.com.