Do these pearls make me look like June Cleaver?

I fear I am becoming domesticated...and might be liking it.  Although the first two days and nights last week following R's shoulder surgery were extremely difficult for both of us, it has eased into a little routine of its own by now.

Yesterday morning, after I took him his juice and medication, I asked what he wanted for breakfast.  "Two scrambled eggs and toast with strawberry jelly."  You see, he is getting quite specific now that he is improving.  The first morning, it was a whiny "I don't know.  Oatmeal....I guess."  I cheerfully set about making his breakfast thinking of women who used to do that sort of thing routinely.  I was buttering his toast, remembering my introduction to the wonders of real butter...the kind that comes in a stick, made from cream from a cow, not the fake kind made with oil and chemicals by corporations.  Gigi and I were staying at her Grandmom's in New Jersey and taking the train into Philadelphia for a conference, and Grandmom insisted on making breakfast every morning, setting out real butter for the toast.  I have eaten it ever since, and we are talking nearly 20 years.

I have become quite the caregiver, putting on compression stockings to prevent DVT, washing said compression stockings and drying them with a hairdryer, fluffing pillows and arranging them to make it more comfortable to sleep whilst wearing a sling that straps his arm to his side and prevents mobility, filling endless ice bags for the every hour icing required, helping him bathe and dress, and driving him to physical therapy.  Now that the pain has subsided for the most part, he is gaining in self-sufficiency.  He poured his own granola and mixed with yogurt this morning--I was taking too long feeding the dogs, cats, and birds and taking my own medication.

Last evening, I was sitting outside watching the birds at the feeders when he came out to discuss my need for a new computer and the options he saw.  We commented on how it had been pretty nice not going to work, just taking it easy around the house, not having to get up early, no pressure of deadlines for the most part.  That will all come to an end next Monday when he goes back to work...and I will have to be the one to drive him there by 8 AM. 

June Cleaver goes back into the closet for a while.