Wednesday, November 20, 2013
A woman’s work is never done. How could it be when we live with men?
How could it be when we live with men?
It all started Saturday morning when I decided to make brunch for my family. I went out to the stand-up freezer in the garage to get a package of bacon. I opened the door to the freezer to find the ice age had begun. Someone, and I am not pointing fingers but it was the only male living in my house, left the freezer door slightly ajar causing two inches of ice and snow crystals to form over everything in it. I unplugged it and left it for a half hour. When I came back, there wasn’t a single drip of water. Everything was still as solid as I left it.
I spotted the Black-n-Decker Stripper 1800 heat gun next to the tool box in the garage and thought “Now that’s a good idea.” I got a harmer and a chisel and began chipping away at the ice to get the food out. Everything was freezer burned. From the perogies I bought two years ago to the pumpkin pie I forgot to serve during Thanksgiving. Everything went in the garbage. Of course, what happens when I see anything wet? I have to pee.
I pee danced down the basement stairs to the bathroom. Of course the one time he remembers to put the lid down is when every second counts for me and my fifty year old bladder. I reach for the toilet paper. The roll is empty. Because no one else in this house knows how to change the toilet tissue roll but me. I change rolls. I go to put the empty roll in the garbage can but the lid is jammed. The garbage is full. Now I have to find a Sobey’s bag in the sink cabinet and change the garbage. Then I find out someone put a Tim Horton’s coffee cup in the can with about an inch of old, cold coffee in it which spills over the floor when I lift the bag out. When I get the bags changed, I reach up and grab the hand towel off the wall holder and wipe it over the floor with my feet to sop up the coffee. Then put a clean towel in its place. My pants are still around my ankles and I now have the bathroom cleaned.
I get myself back together and take the bathroom garbage with me. I lift the cover off the big garbage can in the garage only to find that one is also overflowing. I stuff the bathroom bag on top of the mess and began pulling the big orange bag out of a tub that’s big enough to hold the body of a grown 53 year old, 225 pound man. (Not that I measured). Unbeknownst to me, someone put a half-full McDonald’s soft-drink cup in the bottom of the big garbage bag and it threw up all over the garage floor. Stale, sticky Pepsi exploded at my feet. Cursing and swearing, I dragged the bag out to the side of the house and went back in the garage with a roll of paper towels and begin to soak up the mess. Of course, the Pepsi was sticky and I had to get the mop and bucket to do an old fashioned cleaning on the garage floor. Forty-five minutes later, I was frazzled but the garage was clean.
Then I noticed the stream of water going across the floor and remembered the freezer. It was just starting to thaw. I hooked up my Black-n-Decker Stripper 1800 heat gun and began chiseling my way through the frozen tundra. Two hours later I had thrown two buckets of ice out by the curb next to our driveway and the freezer was washed and plugged back in. This whole time hubby was out in front of the house putting Christmas lights up on “one” tree. I know because at one point he came in the garage and asked “Can you come out and hold the ladder for me?” Because he thinks that no matter what I am doing, I can just drop it to help him. “No!” I growled at him. He went off muttering “What are you in a bitchy mood for today?” He never came back for the answer.
I drag the bag of frost-bitten food to the garbage bin beside the house, put the mop and bucket back where it belongs and make some tea to thaw out my frozen finger tips. It’s then hubby comes bouncing in through the front door like Tigger yelling “Come look at my lights!”
“I am having my tea” I yell back.
“Come look at my lights” he pouts.
“Ok” I drag myself off the chair and go outside to look at the Christmas lights that took over three hours to put in one tree. “They look good” I tell him and turn to go back in the house.
“By the way” he says, “What happened to brunch? Where’s the bacon?”
I’ll give you a hint as to where I buried his body…. He has a great view of the Christmas lights in that one tree.
Posted by Helen C. Escott