From about the first summer we spent together, whenever it was a gorgeous sunny day, or a blistery hot, miserable day, or even a slightly hazy warm day and Mr. P and I would see a truck pulling a boat, we would look at each other and say, "I wish we had a boat." We were sure we could be happy in a little boat, tooling around a local lake, stopping to swim, occasionally attempting to fish, tubing, and maybe even a little bit of camping.
Then last summer, we were able to pull it together, and Mr. P found us a little boat. Was it all we dreamed it would be?
When we are at the lake it is IMPOSSIBLE to worry about getting tenure or whether I am being treated fairly at work. You can not think about the stack of drawings waiting for you to redline. The craziness that makes up your life just dissolves in that crystal clear water. There are no laptops, DVRs, video games, books, movies or cell phones competing for our attention, it is pure time together, and every minute counts.
Needless to say, I love that boat. But the little hussy has stolen my man. We hit six weeks until what we figured would be our first lake weekend of the season, and Mr. P ditched me. We get home from work and the gym, eat some food, and he is gone. I stick my head out the kitchen door a few times an evening:
Me: Ahoy, skipper. How's it going?
Mr. P: Good. I am blahblahing the blah blah in the blah blah for the blah.
Me: Awesome. Can I get you anything?
Mr. P: Nope. I am good.
I know the work on the boat is for me too, but I am a whiny baby and want him to pay attention to me. Would it be unreasonable to ask him to ONLY work on the boat when I feel like being by myself, or maybe just after I fall asleep?