In my household, the chores are evenly divided. We both work. We both care for our kids. The cooking, dishes and overall tidying up tend to fall on me. Laundry and trash duties and caring for Pig, our house rabbit, tend to fall on my husband.
As with any division of labor, needs shift from time to time, making one person the bearer of far more work than the other. For instance, there was that time I started my own business selling paintball guns that shoot Totino's Pizza Rolls. My cooking responsibilities went way down, but man, did the laundry load increase. Similarly, there was that time when my husband offered to help coach speed eating to the local nudist colony so the people there could fulfill their naked dreams of competing in the world championship contest for Buffalo wing eating. Sure, laundry duties diminished, but I was cooking chicken around the clock!
Sadly, the local nudist colony did not take home first place, and my Pizza Roll gun was not a success (nor did either really exist), but that's not the point. The point is that as with the tides of life, chores tend to ebb and flow. Lately, there have been a lot of dishes — so much so that last week's column was dedicated to the mountain of fine china (read: non-BPA-free plasticware) threatening to avalanche across my counters and kitchen floor. For some reason, as of late, the dishes have become unsurmountable.
Then, a kind surprise.
I looked in the kitchen to see my husband scrubbing away at the baked-on grease and the curdled milk. To the side of where he stood washing, my column about how much I hated the dishes.
If anyone doubts the power of media and the written word, allow me to show you my spotless, empty sink! Who knew my words could be so powerful? Why have I not implemented them sooner? Could a trail of pouty Post-it notes lamenting my aching back from picking up toys have ended in my own personal man-maid and a living room massage chair years ago? Is my marriage truly like The Secret? To attract my greatest desires, is it possible that all I needed to do was write them down?
In the interest of science, I would be remiss not to test this theory. I present to you my whine list. And what good is a whine list if there is not a glass of wine in hand while writing it?
Ahem! I said, what good is a whine list if there is not a glass of wine in my hand?!
We're not off to a very strong start. But that's OK. I will not be deterred. The list must go on. For science!
1) Oh, woe is me. I loathe having to change the rearview mirror after someone else (my husband) has driven my car. I find the process of lifting up my arm and tilting the mirror downward so that I can see out the back positively tedious. Wouldn't it be lovely if I could avoid such an inconsiderate inconvenience by the other driver's (my husband's) simply scrunching down while driving so his eye level matches mine? Or, if this other driver is concerned about something as silly and minor as a herniated disk, he can stretch my body until I become taller and can meet his eye level. However, seeing as I hate yoga, all elongating stretches must be administered while I sleep so I can remain REMfully unaware.
2) Pity me, the hardships that consume my life. I always lose my phone! If only there were a personal phone-butler (husband) who could keep my phone on him at all times. It would also be great if this butler could keep tabs on my lip gloss, wallet, car keys and — wait. Where's the car?
3) Alas, sometimes when I request ice in my drink, I am regrettably on the receiving end of full cubes rather than crushed ice. Would that I be so lucky as to have a fine fellow (husband) who could carry around proper crushed ice in his pockets in case any such misfortune occurs? Of course, melted ice is far worse than cubed ice, so he should take whatever steps necessary to keep his pockets cold.
I'm eager to see what frozen-yoga-Mr. Belvedere this week brings me. Until then, I have dishes to tend to again.
Katiedid Langrock is author of the book "Stop Farting in the Pyramids," available at http://www.creators.com/books/stop-farting-in-the-pyramids. Like Katiedid Langrock on Facebook, at http://www.facebook.com/katiedidhumor. To find out more about her and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate webpage at www.creators.com.