The Rock & Roll Husband
I distinctly recall standing next to Abbi in Brooklyn, staring way down Flatbush Avenue towards downtown Manhattan. We were testing the waters together, trying to find a neighborhood in which to move. The process, though, was pushing some other buttons.
“But it’s so far away!” I whined.
Later, on the subway, I articulated what I was going through only slightly better.
“This is about who I am, what I’m worth, and what it all means,” I said.
For some reason, I just couldn’t imagine how I was going to do it all: hold down a day job, remain creative, and be a good partner.
A little more than a year later, now, Abbi and I are happily married and living in Hell’s Kitchen. She’s in Delaware all weekend, a well-timed trip that affords me plenty of time to overdub vocals, guitars and percussion for my June 18th Authentic Records release, “The Invention of Everything Else.”
Just as I aspire to make a great record, though, I aspire to being a good husband. Yesterday, that meant keeping an eye on half a dozen loads of laundry as I was recording.
I wasn’t thrilled about it; it was difficult to get into a real groove with my recording. And six loads of separating lights and darks is kind of a pain in the ass. But I made the best of it. I spent the afternoon alternating between my new record, and various NPR podcasts. It was kind of edifying, and even somewhat relaxing.
Now, Abbi has a far more rigorous approach to laundry than I do (hell, most people probably do). So I used her special soaps, and I air-dried her running clothes and underwear, then folded them like she likes, and tucked them away exactly where they belonged. And the really amazing part to me was realizing just how carefully I was doing so, and how much I wanted to do it the way that would make her happy.
Like Rob says in “High Fidelity,” “For the first time I can sort of see how it’s done.”
I can do the record, and the laundry.
Maybe that’s what it all means.