Random Act of Introduction

I just finished editing a small collection of vignettes that my wife had written over the last two days. They weren’t terribly long, but editing is intense work, and I was hoping to put her off for a few more days.

I’m a little freaked out that my grad school course just started, and I have to get this first assignment done tonight, and I still have to email my marching band about the weekend’s gig. I email an elaborate note called the marching orders, with directions and times and a weather forecast. Saturday’s parade is one of the biggies of the season.

And I’m still working at my high school full-time. The seniors are gone, but I’m trying to get the juniors out in one piece. They gave me room coverage today, which ate up my free time. I’m giving a workshop next week to the other teachers about an Excel file I programmed for dealing with some state-mandated testing, so I’m trying to prep for that. Everyone is grateful for the file I created, but no one understands Excel.

My piano-tuning customers haven’t heard from me in weeks, they’re starting to get ornery, but they’ll have to wait. July is around the corner.

So I wasn’t feeling especially generous with my time when I got home tonight. I know, my wife makes me dinner and everything. Please, Please, she pleads, edit my pieces. They’re sitting as drafts in her blog, waiting for the Publish button.

Random act of kindness. What does random mean? My wife isn’t a stranger, editing her stuff is part of the matrimonial give-and-take. Of course I’m always kind to her. My daily routine isn’t exactly spontaneous. I guess it’s that I gave in. I relented. I listened to the god who says Come on, what the hell is so important? I refused to be reluctant, but instead gladly gave of my time, gave in to generosity. I do love her writing. I love her. So does this count?