For our spouses, their JOB is their job. Our job is everything else that isn't their JOB.
I would NEVER say Lydia doesn't work...she has three - THREE - kids...there is nothing BUT work in her life...plus, she's a New Jersey girl and sometimes she gets all Jersey-ized and I'm a little afraid of her...sister, you work.
OK, so the point of this is I have a job -- a sometimes job. Meaning, every once in a while, I put on real clothes and brush my hair and put on mascara; but really it's that I get to be away from my three kids for like 10 HOURS...in MommyLand, we call that a #$(%&#($ vacation.
So, 9:30 that night, I'm finishing up at work, and an email from the hubby pops up. "no milk"
What? Excuse me?
How is it even possible the refrigerator had not been opened since 6pm...because when I'm at home, that thing cools the whole damn house. Sidebar: Wealthy is the man who invents a clear glass doored refrigerator. WHY do they all just stand there with the door opened? Is the food having sex and making new and different foods?
I felt like I was on a game show.
Door Number 1: Take photo of self flipping him the bird. Hit send.
Door Number 2: Ignore. Feign ignorance later. What e-mail??
Door Number 3: Suggest he learn to lactate...I did. Three times.
Door Number 4: Go. To. The. Grocery. Store.
Let's all keep in mind that collectively, we are, what, two miles from the furthest place that has milk...this is not 1826. We're not hitching up wagons to go get supplies...
Point is, I left the house two hours after he did. There WAS milk when I left. I don't have GPS on dairy products. Let's say for the sake of argument, PEOPLE WERE THIRSTY. How did the hours of 6pm and 9:30pm pass without knowledge of this milk thing? And what was I supposed to do?
When he goes to work, he's a GENIUS...makes decisions that affect millions of people. Saves lives...all that lovely, make-a-difference kind of stuff. Betcha their refrigerators are FULL of milk.
Let me digress for a moment. my husband is amazing. Tall, dark and handsome. Kind and generous and indulges me every time I want sushi. Refers to himself as McLovin. And WILLINGLY abdicated the throne of Bachelorhood at 47 to become husband, dad and stepdad. It's like when King Hummidyhum gave up all of England for Wallis Simpson, but mine gave it up to be one of the Clampetts, but no oil. The President may have been handed the Nobel Prize, but my husband EARNED it. Ahhh, digression over. Commence bitching.
When he was King of Single Men, and there was no milk, who did he write? I'd like to forward my "no milk" emails to that person. They probably miss him.
Anyhow, I took Door Number 5. Wrote back, suggested a reasonable solution, or said I was happy to HURRY home and procure said milk on my way. And, to his credit, he responded with what I needed to hear. "Situation resolved. Kids sleeping. Don't leave."
At that moment, I thought, he never needs to buy me flowers ever again.
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