My husband's sleeping on the loveseat. He never naps midday. I wouldn't wake him up. But I feel like it. I feel like asking him, "Do you want to vacuum?" This is what he calls a "girl question" because the appropriate answer when it's actually asked is never "no." The list of of what needs to be done around here is huge, more than just he can do in a short time. All the work I did presurgery is now undone, and the kitchen and bathrooms really need a good cleaning, the furniture needs dusting, and the floors need vacuuming and sweeping. Just keeping everything picked up, dishes done, laundry, getting meals one way or another, yardwork (every two weeks rather than every week) and helping me out consumes most of the time, however. I really want it dusted and vacuumed. I really can't vacuum, doubt I can dust right now. Aaaargh. Perfectionism and disability clash, though there's a lot to be said for good organization at times like this.
Son is upstairs, strumming out his version of the blues softly on dad's guitar. They make me laugh sometimes.