my husband, my hero
Lately we’ve been noticing how filthy the horizontal shutters are on the western wall of the spare room – soon to be the nursery. They’re not as gritty and interesting as those in the picture, but they’re pretty bad.
We more or less agreed that it was a bit much to ask the cleaning lady to deal with it, since they had been so badly neglected. On Friday, my incredible husband decided to do something about the shutters. For hours on end he wiped and rubbed and valiantly battled against the layers of dust that had accumulated as a result of countless dust storms, dirty rain showers and general Tel Aviv air-borne dirt, until the shutters were shining like new.
Then my own personal superman realised how dirty the windows were, and started on those! I helped wipe about half of one window, and assisted him in taking them out of and reinserting them into the railing – they’re heavy, and huge, and each is over a metre long and wide.
For most of the time that he was working, I read my book and tried not to feel too ashamed of myself.
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