Smooth Satisfaction

Smooth Satisfaction

Yesterday, my day was occupied by the extremely rare all-day date with my husband. We made romantic eyes at one another over the roar of the outside world. We flirted with each other using strength and varying body positions. We were happy to have the other’s sweat land on our bodies.

Yes, romance after seven years of marriage is not dead. Due to a last-minute cancellation by his parents, who were coming to stay with us, my husband was left with the extremely rare pre-scheduled day off of work.

I pictured him saying, “Let’s rent a convertible and cruise up to the wine country, tasting wine and eating delicious food during the cherished four hours that the kids will be in school.” I waited excitedly in anticipation while he took two days to decide what he would do.

Finally, he approached me and said, “I think that I will take Monday off…,” my heart is beating faster with romantic anticipation, “…to sand the deck.”

What the hell?

Aaah, romance daddy-style: he continues, “We could drop the kids off together,” (all of which fit the picture in my head), “then we could stop off at Hertz to rent some belt sanders,” (now we are veering quite a bit from my vision), “and we could sand the deck together,” (obviously not even in the realm of my brain).

I had two choices. I could do what I usually do and complain about how I never get time off, especially time alone with him and wouldn’t it be romantic to do some old school fooling around? Or, I could do what I decided to do and let him get what he desired without a fight.

Once I had the proper mindset, I was determined to be a deck-sander Bob Villa would want to hire, which would definitely be possible because our deck is bigger than most backyards in Marin.

I got dolled up in my ratty work clothes, being consoled by knowing that my husband would find this sexy. I headed outside to what I was told was perfect deck-sanding weather, partly cloudy, but not raining. I had to admit, the weather Gods were on his side as well, so I hunkered down for some work.

After about ten minutes of brain noise arguing the countless other things that I would rather be doing with my “free” time, I was able to let myself clear my head (the extremely loud noise helped in this department) and be completely absorbed by this activity. I got lost in the beauty of the loud screams of the sander that sounded nothing like my children. I focused on the power of smoothing out that one especially stubborn splinter-causing square inch. Take that, and that, and that, and finally — smooth satisfaction.

When I hugged my husband today, I had to verbally yelp due to using dormant muscles for four hours yesterday, but my husband has one less thing on his To-Do list and he considers our time together sanding the deck as bonding.

Romance is still alive, if you allow yourself the freedom to find it.

By Jennifer O’Shaughnessy