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According to my husband, I have the life of Riley.
I'm not really sure who Riley is, but he (or she) stays home and does whatever the heck he (or she) wants to do, whenever the heck he (or she) wants to do it. And writes blog posts in between.
Now, I could lie and tell you that this was said very gently, as to not hurt my feelings, but you may recall that we have been married for fifteen years. There's a certain syllogism there that many of you may be familiar with. Where there is marriage, there is discord. Where there is fifteen years of marriage, there is voluble discord.
So I have the life of Riley. I get to get up past the bootie crack of dawn, I get to work out, I get to take lunch whenever I want, I get to watch Tivo'd television, play on the computer, and...there was something else. Oh, yeah--take a nap if I want to take a nap. AS IF.
All of this was to say, simply, would I please just put his underwear in his drawer while I am busy having my life of Riley. I have no problem with that, really. It's just that...dang. Laundry is just so futile. You wear it, toss it in the hamper, sort it, wash it, dry it, fold it, sort it, and store it neatly in the correct drawer, and within a day or two, it's right back in the hamper. I mean, really. What's the point? Why can't you just pick it up off the floor from it's neatly folded stack?
It's kind of like making the bed. What is the point of making the bed in the morning, anyway? You're just going to un-make it and mess it all up around twelve hours later.
I don't think I really have the life of Riley, though. Staying home is tougher than people think. Cleaning toilets...total ick. And working out: I tried it once and I was sore for three days. I don't think I'm cut out for it.* And then, you have to be super-organized and remember things like when the kids' lunch accounts are about to run out, and which days the one has soccer practice and the other has tumbling, and which days you're supposed to carpool with Cici, and then there are Truly Terrible Things like cleaning monsters from the refrigerator...
All he ever sees, though, is me in a puddle at the end of the day. Maybe I should save all of the hard labor for the four-o'clock hour?
*And actually, I'm totally teasing. An awesome, quick workout is Jillian Michaels' 20-minute, 30-Day Shred. She'll kick your butt for around 4 days, but then you'll get into a good groove and stop feeling like you're going to die and start feeling like you may possibly make it.
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8 comments:
My clothes usually end up on the floor and if they still smell fresh-ish, they're good for another wear or two before heading to the washer.
A friend of mine called the other day who is a stay-at-home-mom (all of her kids are in middle/high school/college). She asked me to come over and help her out with a few things (we ended up organizing and cleaning the house from top to bottom). The part that killed me was her comment of "there is just not enough time in the day...I can't see how someone like you manages it all". It made me pause, because not only was I working full time but also a full time student and spending a Saturday cleaning someone else's house who didn't have those kind of time restraints. I never thought of it before, but I just somehow make it work. Personally, I am would love to have all day to get my stuff done...but, until that day, I make do the best I can. My laundry may not always get put away (or my bed made daily) but at least its clean.
J--Oh, how I WISH I could instill the "it's really OK to wear things more than once" philosophy in my crew...we're a two-loads-per-day household. It's killing me! ;)
Shawna--Time management, my friend! Having been on both sides of the fence, I can say with all honesty that it's less the amount of time you have than what you actually do with it.
:)
You make me laugh with your description of your faux easy life.
I know how it is. It ain't easy.
intro:
i have tried to write a comment like 4 times now but it just doesn't come out right. after much consideration, while having to take a bath with the 2 year old because it is the only safe way for me to get clean, i have come up with the perfect 3 word response to this post.
actual comment:
I Gotcha Babe.
epilogue:
so there you have it. sometimes all day isn't long enough. or short enough. depending.
Someone once told me a 'joke' about how a man comes home from work, finds clothing & toys strewn everywhere, breakfast dishes still on the table, kids still in pajamas and long overdue diapers... your basic household tornado. He hurries into the bedroom where his wife is, worried something may have happened to her. There she is, reading a book and eating chocolates - and he asks, "Are you okay? What happened?!" Her response is: "I wanted you to see what it is that I do all day."
Or something like that.
You wouldn't believe how many times I was tempted to actually pull this off - but the OCD part of me couldn't let it happen.
I agree about the laundry. Laundry is like that Greek Myth about Prometheus. Prometheus stole fire from the Gods and as a punishment was chained to a cliff where a giant raptor came and ate his liver. But then at night his liver would grow back and so the next day the raptor would come back and eat his liver...and then it would grow back...and the raptor would come again...and it would grow back...and the raptor would come again. Yeah, laundry.
Anaise--Amen, Sister! Thanks for that!
Misty--there are no words, sometimes. I love this comment. LOVE.IT.
Gerb--*laughing*...I wish I could do that. The most I can do is leave the laundry in neatly sorted stacks, and FAIL to make the beds. Oh, well. Maybe I'll get there one of these days.
Mel--that's perfect. Those Olympians were really good about coming up with epic tasks like that...I always felt so sorry for the heroes that had messed up.
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