This past weekend, we cut down a tree. Well. S cut down a tree. And actually, he pushed it over a week ago (it was riddled with disease and we’ve gotten a lot of rain). Then, on Saturday, he cut it into movable chunks using a chainsaw.
Wait. Am I sapping all the drama from this little tale? Yes. Yes, I am.
When we moved into our house five (!) years ago, we knew the tree would have to come down. This year, we’ve been working on the backyard, and to my amazement, S took down the tree without badgering on my behalf. I confronted him with this observation and he remarked that it obviously needed doing.
Le sigh. I don’t even think that qualifies as a suggestion. It’s just a straight-up acknowledgement that he thinks most of the other projects I set him on are unnecessary. And, to be fair, he’d openly admit as much if I asked. Sometimes it’s just better not to know.