Our holiday weekend got off to a great start. We went to the farmer’s market, did some cleaning, and then I got some chicken stock started for the dish I was planning. My husband got into the kitchen after I was done with my prep work and got started on a loaf of bread.
Now, my surgery was almost 8 weeks ago, and in that time we have attempted sex exactly twice. My husband has waited extremely patiently and has not pressured me at all. He is awesome. Yesterday he asked me, very nicely, if once our kitchen work was done (stock simmering, dough rising), we might go into the bedroom and “see what happens.”
Having had a nice, relaxing, non-stressful day so far (and being replete with EWCM), I actually thought this might be a good idea. So while he was kneading, I went into the bedroom and took all my clothes off. I figured I’d just have to wait a few minutes and he would find me; I was thinking it would be a nice surprise for him.
No sooner had I sat down on the bed, buck naked, than there was a loud knock at the door. I shouted to my husband, “Can you get that?” He grumbled because his hands were all floury. The birds freaked out at the knocking and shouting and started zooming around the apartment (one of them ended up in the bathroom). My husband didn’t even make it all the way to the door before our landlord barged in.
Did I mention the bedroom door was open?
I froze. There was no way in hell I was getting up to close the door, and I wasn’t going to have time to put my clothes back on….I got under the covers and hoped for the best.
My husband was running around the apartment picking the birds up (and swearing under his breath because I wasn’t helping–he still didn’t know where I was). He passed by the bedroom and I flailed my arms wildly to get his attention–I didn’t want to say anything in case our landlord heard us talking and decided to come say hello. Once I had his attention I whispered “SHUT THE DOOR!”
I could almost see the light bulb going on over his head. Why I wasn’t helping. Why I didn’t answer the door in the first place. Why I was under the covers. He shut the door, I got up and put my clothes on, and then I went out to the living room to say hello to the landlord.
It turns out that their ceiling leaks whenever I take a bath (they live directly below us). This has been going on for over 10 years and finally yesterday for some reason they decided it was the perfect moment to show up with a handyman to see if they could find the problem. They (landlord, her husband, and the handyman) were in and out of our bathroom for the rest of the afternoon. They didn’t fix anything but they did find the problem, so presumably they’re going to have to come back at some point to fix it.
I may never have sex again.