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of stamping magazines and catalogs on the floor, near my side of the bed. When I’m having trouble falling asleep or not interested in whatever my husband is watching on ESPN, I happily read, and gaze at all the pretty projects. My husband considers this “work”, because my #1 recreational interest is also my “work”.

He does not get “it”. Case in point, a recent dialogue:

“Why are you working so late?”, he asks.

“I’m not working. I am reading.”, I respond.

“That’s a stamping book! You are working!!!“, he states, annoyed. “You don’t see me looking at stuff about leadership as a school administrator, do ya’??? I read Sports Illustrated at night!!!!”

“OK, so if I were reading the IKEA catalog or a smut novel, then I would be relaxing, but if I’m reading a stamping magazine, then, somehow, that equates to me working????

What POSSIBLE difference can it make WHAT I am reading, if I LIKE what I am reading?????!!!!“, I shout.

………….he has no response for this, and reluctantly admits I have a point.

I am smug.

Good grief! Of COURSE I am not “working”!!! I am mentally spending all our money on new stamps! I am SHOPPING, for cryin’ out loud!!! D’oh!!!! (wink!)

  1. Exactly!

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