Every summer, my husband takes off on a three- to four-week adventure without me. He's Canadian, which means he's practically born with a canoe in one hand and a fishing pole in the other. Since he was a baby, he's spent every summer on an island in Northwestern Ontario. It's his happy place. Me? I'm a city girl. Although I love nature and the outdoors, I need comforts like comfy mattresses with crisp, white sheets and indoor plumbing. After over twenty years of marriage, we realized I'd be happier if I only joined him on this wilderness retreat every other year. In the in-between years, I'm blissfully avoiding mosquito bites and doing my own thing.
When he's gone, I enjoy a little taste of "single life" again. It's like a mini vacation from coupledom. I let my bad habits run wild - I leave things scattered around the house, forget to close the kitchen cabinet doors, and binge on the Netflix series (Bridgerton, anyone?). But I'm always caught off guard by how hard it is to do everything myself. His absence is most glaring when I'm prepping for a solo trip.
When he's gone, I typically take road trips to indulge in e-biking, dining, shopping, wine-tasting, and girlfriend time. But here's the catch: e-bikes are heavy, clunky, and downright uncooperative. Usually, Rob, my husband, does the heavy lifting—literally. When he's not around, I channel my inner Hulk, trying to hoist that beast onto the bike rack, only to pull a muscle I didn't even know I had. Last time, I even managed to mis-install the bike rack and ended up with the bike smushed against the car. The only thing that saved me from total disaster was the rear tire cradle, which miraculously held the bike in place. Of course, I only grasped my mistake after sending a panicked photo to Rob, who immediately diagnosed the problem from hundreds of miles away.
And then there's the whole ordeal of securing the house when we're both gone. Thieves decided to treat themselves to a shopping spree at my place two years ago. They got in by jimmying open a sliding glass door in the bedroom. The door was easy to reach because we were having our house painted, and scaffolding covered our house. We were on vacation, blissfully unaware until our painter called with the bad news. When we got home, it looked like a tornado had hit. They took anything of value they could find—computers, bikes, my precious leather jackets and handbags. But, they also grabbed toilet paper, a box of Trader Joe's nuts and dried fruits, and my late aunt's silverware. I thought thieves didn't steal silverware these days?
Ever since that horrific experience, I get major anxiety whenever I leave for a trip. I turn into a one-woman security force—hiding valuables, locking up computers, setting alarms, checking doors, and ensuring the lights are on a timer. Rob handles most of this normally, but it's all on me when I'm flying solo. When I finally get into the car to leave, I'm ready to turn around, go back inside, and take a long nap.
Rob's latest anti-theft strategy is to put all our keys (car, house, padlocks, mailbox) in a pouch we take when we leave. Except there's one tiny problem: only Rob knows which key goes with which lock. It's no big deal when he's there, but when I'm left to figure out which key unlocks what, it's like a sad, solo escape room challenge. This year, I got smart—I spent two hours sorting out the keys, labeling them, and finally reclaiming my sanity..
These few summer weeks remind me that teamwork is one of the many perks of having a partner. It's also satisfying to know that I can do the hard stuff myself when needed. But, as much as I rely on Rob for heavy lifting and reading instruction manuals, I can't help but think of the "what ifs."" What if one day, I'm on my own again?
It's a thought that's not exactly fun to entertain, but it's one I always bring up with my clients—most of whom are women. Even if their husbands are the ones who handle the finances, they must know the details. Why? Being in the dark about your financial situation is a bit like trying to install a bike rack without reading the manual—eventually, it will come back to bite you. After all, knowing how to handle your own money is just as important as knowing how to properly install that bike rack—both can save you from a lot of trouble down the road.
Excellent points!!!