Gonads, Ice Picks and Husband-Eating Zombie Wives

If Hubber begins one more sentence with, "Since you'll be at home all day doing nothing, could you..."... I'ma pluck his eyeballs out with a rusty ice pick and squish his gonads between my freakishly strong toes. Then, I'll pull his hair.  And for good measure, I'll scrub the toilet with his toothbrush.

For some strange reason, Hubber seems to think that I roll out of the bed each morning and assume this ritual:

1. slurp down a cup of coffee
2. stumble into my house slippers
3. drive starving teen spawn to school
4. get back home and crawl back under the covers
5. take magically dressed, sugar-filled kindergartener (with shiny clean teeth) to school
6. get back home and crawl back under the covers
7. take a two-hour nap
8. turn the tv on and watch soaps and talk shows while munching on Cheetos and drinking rum and coke
9. roll back out of bed to frolick around in the backyard with the dog
10. "play" on facebook until it's time to pick teen spawn back up from school

I wish, mofo!

Instead, shit usually goes down like this:

1. fall out of bed
2. try to spruce myself up a bit to look alive
3. scream at teen spawn to hurry the hell up
4. beg tiny spawn to get up
5. answer a few work-related emails
6. plead with teen spawn to eat/drink something before we leave
7. argue that we do NOT have time to go to McDonald's on the way to school 
8. drag tiny spawn out of bed kicking and screaming
9. pile kids up in the car and drive to the high school
10. halfway there, teen spawn freaks out that she forgot something at home
11. more arguing takes place
12. drop teen spawn off at school
13. get back home to get tiny spawn ready for school
14. fight with tiny spawn regarding hair/teeth brushing and NOT having a popsicle for breakfast
15. remind her that panties and socks are essential on school days
16. answer a few work-related emails
17. take tiny spawn to school
18. sit in the car line for at least 10 minutes while other jackass parents figure out how to fucking drop their kids off and move the hell out of the way
19. get home and let the dog out
20. scream at dog for fighting with neighbor's dog
21. feed animals / clean litter box
22. make FIRST cup of coffee
23. answer work-related emails
24. return a couple of calls
25. work
26. wash some dishes
27. work
28. throw a load of laundry into the washing machine
29. work
30. sit in on ridiculously long conference call while catching up on some writing
31. pay bills
32. run to the grocery store
33. work
34. look at the time and freak out that I only have 10 more minutes until I have to pick teen spawn back up from school

I'll stop there because what comes next deals with carpooling... arguing with teen spawn... running (literally) in the direction of tiny spawn's bus stop so the bus driver doesn't get mad at me for being late again..... getting write-up from teacher because my kindergartener can't behave at school... arguing with tiny spawn about her television priveledges... trying to get more work done... etc. etc.

Then, Hubber gets home all tired, wondering what the fuck I did all day and why we're having cereal again for dinner and why I didn't wash a load of whites.

 

I understand the concept of COOKING and CLEANING - just not as it applies to me...

Contrary to popular belief, I did not pull a bait-and-switch on Hubber.  Before I became his ball-and-chain, I made extra sure that mofo understood that I do not like to cook or clean.  I also don't like a messy house.  And, I love to eat.  So, basically, he was hitting the jackpot! 

No problemo, he said, "we're two gainfully employed adults - we can hire help and eat out!"  Back in those days, I had a housekeeper to do the dirty work; and I had all the take-out restaurants on speed dial.

Three moves, a few new jobs, two kids and 6 pets later we're eating Ramen noodles and covered in dog hair. Also, our pool needs to be completely drained of funk, our toilets need a good scrubbing and every inch of carpeting needs to be set on fire.

My house looks like shit, y'all. It seems that at some point after reducing my salary considerably, firing my housekeeper, and letting the youngest spawn take over the house, this shit just got away from me.  My peeps are lucky to have clean dishes and clothes. 

Well, usually. 

We all know I hate doing laundry.  It is a never ending fucking menace.

Me:  Hubber, please tell me you have clean panties for work tomorrow.

Hubber: Are you EVER going to do the laundry?

Me:  Yes or no, Hubber?

Hubber:  If I say no, will you do the laundry?

Me: Probably not. But, I MAY go to Target, in which case, I'll buy you a few new pairs.

Hubber: (rolling eyes) I keep a few spares for times like these. 

Me: Damnit.

I think he's on to me.  He can outlast me and the spawns when it comes to clean clothes!  I wonder if he has a mistress somewhere scrubbing away at his dirty panties in secret?  Anything to keep me from making an extra trip to Target.  Jackass.  I bet he has secret burritos stashed away for days when I don't cook, too!