Rick is cheating on me.  Not technically.  I encouraged it. Pushed him, really.  You see, I can’t do the things Rick and I used to do for fun. We’re out here in Carmel with the golf courses, the beaches, the mountains and all I can do is gaze longingly.  I have ridden in the golf cart while Rick plays.  I have taken a shortened walk around the base of the mountain while Rick hikes up and back. We meet at the car.  I take a book with me while I wait. This is not really working for me. Sort of like pouring salt in the wound.

And it’s is not fair to Rick. So, I am on the lookout for playmates for him.  This morning he is  hiking with our friend Jen. They got up early this morning and I slept in. I’m drinking coffee, watching the golf tournament on TV, surfing the net. And I’m perfectly content. Truth be told, all those fun things we used to do had become less fun the past couple of years. There is a thin line between challenging and grueling, between exhilarating and too much. Before I knew there was something wrong, I knew there was something different.  I didn’t look forward to our many activities. I dreaded them. So, I’m OK that he is cheating on me this morning and that I am still in my pajamas, drinking coffee and writing this.