Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Thoughts Over One Serving of Roast and Mashed Potatoes

Me, talking with my hands as usual…

At 7:52pm, I finally caved.

I had successfully busied myself since getting off work: working out, three loads of laundry in progress, fresh mashed potatoes and a clean kitchen, a tidied the house. It was time to throw in the towel.

It was time for dinner.

The pot roast was incredible. The vegetables were soft and saturated with roast juices after a day in the crockpot together. The potatoes were creamy, with a hint of garlic and pepper, balanced with salt. And as I served the scrumptious meal and set myself a place at the table I couldn’t help but check my cell phone. Again.

For the thirty-seventh time of the evening.

Maybe Curtis had called? Maybe I had missed a text. Perhaps that was his car pulling in the drive, his steps on the stairwell. Perhaps the hospital was finally finished with him for the day.

Alas, no such luck.

Marrying someone in medical school (or residency) requires a delicate dance with independence. Sure, you’re attached to this individual for all legal rights and purposes, but in real life you’re often on your own, making your own plans, eating your own dinners, maintaining your own relationships. We have found this fragile shuffle to be most effectively executed with clear expectations, meticulously coordinating schedules to maximize time together while minimizing disappointment.

So I don’t end up alone for an evening with a delicious tender roast.

Unfortunately, we operate with an imperfect system. No matter how carefully we plan, the hospital holds the almighty trump card. Health emergencies occur whether or not there is a roast waiting for dinner. And while I’d like to think I’m a patient person that capitalizes on opportunities to catch up on laundry and dishes, the reality is that I’d be happy to let them pile higher for one more night.

As long as it meant that at the end of the evening remnants of mashed potatoes would be growing crusty along the edges of two dishes, instead of just one.

1 comment:

  1. I don't know how you do it. It would drive me crazy to deal with such things. You're tougher than I am. Also, this post has made me really hungry for a good pot roast.