Feeling useful

I guess I spend a lot of time here lately thinking about what it means to be useful . I left my job back in Virginia and moved here last December and I won't start school until mid March, so until then, I have multiple projects here around the house to keep me busy. These projects are my small way of feeling as though I contribute something to our life here at home. Lila has a day job and works, a lot. Allow me to expand on that... she works her ass off... like 6-7 days a week; and her job isn't at the mall selling over-salted pretzels either- she works for the gov managing an ass load of money (along with 8-10 other jobs that aren't even hers, but she does anyway) that apparently no one contemplates what the fuck to do with along with the other aforementioned bullshit jobs that get thrown on her. Being 4 months pregnant and dealing with all of this surely can't be the least stressful job a woman could ask for, but she does it and does it incredibly well. For dealing with all of this on a day-to-day basis, I am proud of her; along with all of the other bullshit she puts up with- namely mine after she comes home. Jesus, how can anyone I know come home to me and deal with all of the weird shit I can put someone through and still love me? Wow, true love must really exist!

My days start off at 0600. I get up, make the coffee, stir about, let the dogs out while Lila soaks up the last few minutes of freedom in bed. She's up and off by 0730, which typically leaves me to my devices for the day. For the last 2 weeks, I have been out in the back of the house working to get it cleared up. There were a lot of fallen trees and a ton of brush about that needed clearing and I took about the task. Hell, I even spent $450 on a weed eater (see 1st blog post) to help get the job done. Day after day I go out and begin to work the land as it were, cutting trees from every implement from a small machete, to a bow saw up to a 28" pro chainsaw. Whacking at briars and scrub brush as thorns tear into my arms and face. I don't mind the blood and the pain is more of an annoyance than anything. I've gotten a lot done over the past two weeks and I am proud to see my progress, as I can now look out back and see the creek bed that was hidden so deeply behind all of the debris and heavy brush. But, even with all that I have accomplished, I still can't feel as though I have done anything near as worthy as what Lila does for us every day. She's four months pregnant. Drives 45-60 minutes to work, each way every day. Deals with an amount of stress and bullshit that would have made me flip my shit, kick everyone in the ass and quit in under 15 minutes, daily. Comes home to me and all my retarded insanity, tired and in need of a mental and physical recharge while I've done what exactly? Yeah, what the fuck have I done during her 11 hour day? Hmmm, let's see:

 When she leaves around 0730, I am on my computer checking email, SAC and generally fucking off until 1000. I take the dogs out, make a few phone calls to get quotes for fencing, etc. "Lunch" falls between 1100 and 1200 and I am in the yard full-tilt no later than 1300. Now, to be honest, when I hit the yard, there is absolutely no fucking about- I work with all the integrity that a U.S. Marine should. I kick my own ass on a daily basis out there. I loathe the gym and there is, in my opinion, no substitute for a good workout doing hard manual labor. So, as the past two weeks have rolled by and I stopped today to admire my work; I asked myself- "What am I really doing around here to contribute? How am I being useful?". Before the back yard project began to take place, I made it a point to have a nice home cooked dinner ready for Lila when she got home from work; but, since taking on this new task, I have faltered in that quite a bit. She hasn't complained about it at all (nor would she), bit to me it is a small., yet important part of taking care of things while she is away being the family bread winner. All of which brings me back to, "What the fuck I am doing at home while she is slaving away at work that makes me feel worth a fuck?".

Right. What is it, exactly, that I am doing? We've talked about it and she insists that the work I am doing while she is gone makes her feel good, as she enjoys the yard now more and so on. But, I think a lot of you guys know what I am getting at here- where is my worth in this? There is no dollar value on what I am doing per se. I sit in a robe and surf the net for 2-3 hours a day while she works, what the fuck is that? I guess there is a lot to be said for someone feeling as though they have never given there worth, yet to what measure does one hold themselves accountable?

At this point, I simply have to feel content with the fact that where I am right now, is where I am. I start school in a month to become a squirrel chaser and tree hugger- perhaps working outdoors is some kind of fucked up pre-cursory test that no one ever told me about. Hell, I dunno... it sure does beat doing laundry and washing dishes all day. Shit. I wondered why I got a funny look this afternoon while she was doing that...