Honey do

It seems that David will be leaving for the Middle East soon. I am dreading it. I am sickened by it. I don't want him to go, yet, I know this is our only option to get out of our financial situation. I just want him to go and get the six months over with. I want to be done with this chapter of our story. I want him back home, and safe, and happy. The stress of our life has created so many problems in our marriage. I just want to be able to take the financial problems off the table, and when he returns, we can clean up the fallout. It sounds good in theory. Only time will tell.
I have been making a mental list in my head about what needs to be taken care of before he goes away. Our basement door is falling off the hinges. I keep worrying about this. I want David to fix that before he goes. I was sitting in the kitchen yesterday, and realized, that if one of the lightbulbs goes out in our kitchen, I will be unable to change them. The ceiling is too high, and I cannot reach the sockets. David does that job. I suppose all of the lightbulbs will have to be changed before he goes. I was then looking at all of my outdoor furniture on the deck. It is heavy stuff. A couch and chairs, and a table and chairs, with an umbrella. How will I get those things put away on my own? David does that. It is heavy, manly work. Do I have him put it away before he leaves, even though he may be leaving before the nice weather ends?
Then I got to thinking about Christmas. All of my decorations are in the basement. When I referred to the basement in the above paragraph, I neglected to properly describe it. We technically have what is called a "crawl space". The door I was talking about is actually located on the side of our house. You have to go outside to get into the crawl space. It is dark, and creepy. The floor is made of dirt, and river rock. Not really a proper basement. No insulation. It is damp, and there is an entire eco-system in there. Creepy, and buggy. I never go in there. David does that. It is just not suitable for the women of the house down there, in my opinion. So at Christmas time, what am I to do? Leave the girls in the house alone, and go outside in the snow, and get the decorations, alone? There are so many boxes of lights and little trees that I set up, and all of our ornaments. Even our little tin foil star that I made for our first Christmas together. How do I even get a Christmas tree? I know we will go and buy one, and they will put it on the car for me. But then what? I have to take it down, and bring it in the house, and get it to stand straight in the tree stand? Then I will have to water it everyday. That job is the pits, what with all the branches, and crawling awkwardly under the tree to deliver water to the stand. David does that.
For all that I know I do around here, and how put out I feel at times, and resentful I feel toward David, when comparing "duties", I am overwhelmed with all of the new jobs that will soon be added to my job description. David takes care of bugs, both killing, and removal. He puts the groceries away, in the most orderly fashion. He rearranges the dishwasher, so all the cutlery has it's own categories, and the plates are prewashed and lined up from biggest to smallest. He picks up all of the babys toys and neatly puts them in a place for her, at the end of the day. He pulls into the driveway everyday, beeping the horn, so the girls come racing out of the house to greet him. He plays the Grateful Dead for them in the car, cranked up to 11, when I am not there. He hands out ice pops secretly to the girls, letting them think I didn't see, and allowing them all to have a secret. He reads them stories. He insists they respect me. Who will do this? David does that.
Who will be my friend? Who will help me get through this? Who will reassure me, and tell me everything is gonna be OK?
 How will I sleep at night, knowing the other half of me is in a terribly dangerous place.
David does that.