Hubby simultaneously amuses me and annoys me when he talks about what I do for a living. Up until not long ago, when someone asked him what his wife did, he would tell them that she was a typer.

I took a bit of offense to that, because typing is just inputting other people’s words into a computer. That’s not what I do. I did a little of that when I was younger, but now it’s my own words, therefore I’m writing.

I tried to explain that to Hubby, but he just looked at me like I was explaining the chemical makeup of Leptovox. He doesn’t get it at all. He reasons that since I’m not writing stuff out by hand, that makes me a typer. Not a typist, mind you, but a typer. But I decided to leave that alone and tackle one issue at a time.

After much debating, he finally told me he would start telling people that I’m a writer. But I can just hear him now: “She calls herself a writer, but I don’t see her writing anything. All she does is sit in front of the computer and type.”

Oh well. I don’t really understand the nuts and bolts of what he does for a living. I know he cuts down trees and brush around power lines, but when he comes home and tells me about the specifics of what he did that day, I just kind of smile and nod. I guess it’s all the same.