garden

I like being in my garden.  Today I sat on my big porch on the day bed...ok, laid...behind the lace curtains. I was resting before it was time to go with the kids on a walk.  I fell sound asleep for about 20 minutes.  Very nice.
But, my husband does his garden thing...a thing he has never even taken pleasure in.  And he is making me feel crappy.  He works hard.  Don't get me wrong.  The man works incessantly.  At work.  At home.  At play.  All of the time.  It's just that he's always so busy proving how great he is that he doesn't have time to see how good anyone else is.  I'm weary.
I still love my garden.  I'd love it more if he wasn't around to make me feel lousy about it....well, maybe i wouldn't love it more, but I'd be able to relax and enjoy it more.
He likes someone else.  He doesn't like me.  I can tell when he likes people.  I don't measure up.  Oh well.