Think you wanna marry a writer? READ THIS FIRST!

Due to a major change in our household, this post is dedicated to my husband. What upheaval –er –major change, you ask? Grab your favorite beverage and pull up a chair. I’ll give you a wee bit of back story before we get to the meat of today’s subject.

Hubby and I have been married thirty-three years. One thing I can honestly say about this particular chunk of my life is there’s never been a dull moment. Twenty-three of those thirty-three years, hubby worked twelve hour shifts that cycled back and forth between day shift and nights. His schedule only allowed two weekends off a month. The other breaks always fell during the week –while I was away at MY full time day job. Are you picking up on the trend here? Yep. You got it. Hubby and I didn’t occupy the house at the same time very much. But due to the vast differences in our personalities and idiosyncrasies, it worked. In fact, it worked DAMN WELL.

Last month, hubby retired from that job and took another position in an adjacent plant. Now his schedule is straight days. Home every night. Every freakin’ weekend off. Just. Like. Mine. *sigh*

Don’t get me wrong! I love my husband but I’m here to attest there is such a thing as too much togetherness.  ESPECIALLY if one of you happens to be a writer. An unable to manage her time well writer who becomes surlier than a sore-tailed bear when she doesn’t get any writing accomplished.

So, as I said, this post is dedicated to my husband. It’s a compilation of his warnings to those who might be toying with the idea of taking a writer as a mate.

1.      Learn how to cook. If you can’t cook, you better know the hours of operation to any nearby restaurants because if your writer is connected to that laptop, it’s the only way you’re gonna eat.
2.      Put the trash can in an enclosed area so all the stuff can be strategically stacked as high as it’ll need to go or you’re gonna have to take it out once a day instead of once a week.
3.      When your writer’s eyes get all squinchy at you over the top of their laptop screen, back out of the room. Slowly. Without taking your eyes off your writer in case they make any sudden moves.
4.      When the dog is sitting at the front door, yipping to go outside and water the trees and your writer says, “What’s that dog want now?” That is code for: will you PLEASE get your ass up out of that recliner and walk him? Now?
5.      Learn to follow along behind the writer wherever they go, picking up after them, and keeping track of where they’ve left glasses, keys, notes, ink pens, yadda yadda yadda. When they’re in the middle of a story, they can’t even remember their own names.
6.      Your house won’t get or remain spotless unless you hire somebody or do it yourself.
7.      IF your writer emerges from their world long enough to clean pig sty house under the impending doom of company coming, prepare for laser eyes mentioned in Warning Number 3.
8.      Be thankful laser eyes are not fully armed and equipped with death ray option. Although, as writers evolve, this could be a distinct hazard in the future.

I’m sure hubby has more warnings but the above are the only ones he felt comfortable sharing. I tried to pry a few more out of him and got this reply, “I haven’t lived this long by being stupid.” 

Hmm…good advice?