Well it seems as though everyone at home is finally on the mend! Flip and Skip headed back to school yesterday, the husband-on-crutches also went back to work, and I finally got some time to BEGIN to catch up on all my pursuits that have been totally neglected lately.

So, what was the hardest part of this post-knee-surgery time?

No. It wasn’t the fact that I had to to absolutely everything for absolutely everybody.

No. It wasn’t that I had NO time to myself at all, because even with the kids occupied (before they got sick) having the husband home 24/7 meant that every 5 minutes, he would ask “Where are you? What are you doing now?” Nope. Not that.

No. It wasn’t that everyone (including me) came down with some strange viral malady which turned us all into a mucous producing freak show.

It was, in short…

THE BACK SEAT DRIVING.

And…it continues.

Yes, we’re still having to drive 45km clear across town three times a week for physiotherapy.

Yes of course we have physiotherapists nearby.

In fact we have TWO within WALKING distance from our house. But of course, the husband has to have highly specialized physiotherapy, (done by a machine I might add, with no human intervention) which can only be done 45km clear across town.

The absolute pain of it all, is that my husband CANNOT contain himself for 5 minutes when I’m in the drivers seat.

Let me tell you something folks. I am a good driver. I am not your typical chick…lipstick applying…ipod shuffling…cell-phone talking bimbo.

I concentrate.

I use my signal indicators correctly.

I follow the rules of the road.

I keep left, and pass right. (Remember we drive on the OTHER side of the road over here).

My husbands constant barrage of instructions of what to do every 5 seconds are, in short, DRIVING ME TO INSANITY.

CHANGE LANES.

WHERE ARE YOU GOING?

WHAT ARE YOU DOING?

Then there’s the constant MESSING WITH MY RADIO.

FIDDLING WITH THE GRAPHIC EQUALIZER. THE BALANCE. THE FADE.

MESSING WITH MY RADIO STATIONS.

SKIPPING ON THE CD.

THE READJUSTMENT OF MY AIR CONDITIONING/THE FAN/THE AIR VENTS DIRECTIONAL FLOW.

The other day. I actually cracked.

I had become so accustomed to his CONSTANT BLOODY BUTTING IN that I was in a complete daze, and missed the turn to his work (not a trainsmash, because I could simply take the next one less than 50m further, and double back, making it in fact easier to turn into his buildings security area).

MY GOD. The flailing of hands, the quick-tempered ‘WHAT ARE YOU DOING!? WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!? TURN TURN TURN TURN!!!’.

For a split second I didn’t realise why he was flipping out, and actually thought that from the panic and urgency in his voice that there MUST have been a giant truck bearing down on us.

My life actually began to flash before my eyes, until I realise that what he really was trying to say, was, “Sweet heart, you missed the turn to my work, but it’s okay, because I can see you’re completely exhausted from waiting on all of us hand and foot, and I’ve really been no help at all. But if you wouldn’t mind, please take the next turn, and then I’ll get to work. So I’m sorry, but it’s all okay.”

Yeah. That’s what he was *really* trying to say.

What happened shortly after his outburst is that I just burst out crying. I really had thought that from the urgency in his voice that we were  ALL ABOUT TO DIE.

Then I got mad.

Really, really mad.

THAT’s IT!!!! I yelled.

NO MORE! FROM NOW ON YOU SIT THERE SILENTLY. YOU DON’T TOUCH ANYTHING IN MY CAR AND YOU REMEMBER THAT YOU COULD NOT HAVE DONE ANY OF THIS WITHOUT ME AND YOU WILL BE $%#KING GRATEFUL!!!

I think I must have gone on for about 5 minutes about how he was the most insensitive wart that ever attached itself to the sole of anyones foot. I was *really, really pissed*.

So. Today we head out again, and I’ll be interested to see if my outburst has had any effect at all. While I’m hopeful. I seriously doubt it.

This is getting old. Really Fast. Plus I know there’s no way that I’m going to score a 24″ iMac in gratitude from him either. Because that would have made it all okay.

You see? There again, is where women and men differ. I mean I actually think about his feelings all the time, and like to think of suitable manly gifts like industrial hand wheels and other things found at hardware stores where women fear to tread. I mean after both of my pregnancies and subsequent c-sections, I actually thanked him with a small gift for all the driving around of me that he did to doctors appointments and what not afterwards. Did I get so much as a bunch of flowers for the actual bearing of his children?

I’d better stop now. I’m starting to sound bitter.

p.s. I do love the guy. He isn’t always like this. He must be so frustrated to not be able to get around on his own. I would be too.

pp.s See? Just did it again. Saw it from his perspective? Sometimes I’m just too much of a chick. (except when I’m driving).

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