Thursday, April 22, 2010

The Big "D" To Do List

As you may have learned last week, McLovin has left Kate to fend off the IHPs for herself while he's in Afghanistan. Which Happy calls Again-istan. So now we all call it Again-istan. So it should be interesting when and if McLovin has to go back once more in the future, because then we can call it AgainAgain-istan.

Which the only thing funny about Again-istan. Because the rest of it sucks.

We've just finished Week One. And I'm slowly learning that, for all the years that Moms (OK, me...) have been complaining about all the work we do that our husbands have no clue, i.e. the Laundry Fairy, it seems that McLovin does his fair share of covert chores.

How do I know? Because there's a lot of sh*t not happening in my house.
  • I crawled out of bed the first morning when it was still dark because the geriatric gimpy beagle was losing his ever-lovin' mind. Fire? No. Intruders? No. Pee? Yeah. Seriously, I have to get up at damn-it's-dark-thirty in the morning to let the dog pee? Apparently. And then again 15 minutes later, and then five minutes after that. Now I know why he runs all night in his sleep. He's trying to get to the fire hydrant.
  • His (McLovin's -- not the dog's) alarm clock keeps going off. And the backup alarm clock in the bathroom. And I can't turn it off because they both have six million buttons and I don't want to unplug them because they're also clocks, which are useful. I can broadcast news to the world via London with the click of a mouse, but programming a $9.99 electronic gadget from Best Buy? Damn.
  • Being that I was up - and COLD - I ventured to the kitchen, where it was COLDER. WTF? Oh, right. It was warm  when McLovin left. He probably turned off the heat. Now it's 42 degrees and I have no idea how to use the thermostat. Because I've never touched it. Because it has 68 buttons and I think I programmed in nuclear codes or something. And now the house is HOT and I've opened the windows. It'd probably be cheaper to make a fire out of money. Stupid electronics. 
  • The water softener has gone off every six hours. Environmentalists are going to start parading in front of my house if it doesn't stop. I tried turning it off, but there's a reason we have a water softener, because, without it, it's like showering with nails. You skin squeaks. And I'm pretty sure I brushed the enamel off my teeth. So I turned it back on. And now it's recycling through every three hours. Fantastic.
  • There was no coffee. Which I'm completely capable of making, were it not for the fact that it's a new coffee maker and buttons vex me. And I would just press any random configuration, but I think it's actually a flux capacitor masking as a coffeemaker and I don't want to wind up in 1955. Besides, I don't know how much coffee to put in it. Which I could figure out if the coffee wasn't whole bean and I have no idea where the grinder is. Because he loves to put things away. Basically this is just an order to go to Starbucks for a Venti Ralph Macchio.
  • And why is there a week's worth of newspapers on the kitchen table?
  • And the dog better stop scratching on the door before I lose my schmidt.
  • We have 7 trash cans in the house. SEVEN! And they're all full. There are only five people. How is this possible? Who deals with this? Plus the recycling...and the little lint tray in the dryer. How long has he been cleaning that out? Because I know I've never done it. However, the dryer is working much better now, thanks.
  • We've swapped cars, from my huge FrankenVolvo to his little sports car, which requires the kids to yoga up their legs. Why? There's no gas in the Volvo. I'm pretty sure I'm going to have to buy a new car next week, because I don't think it's going to last until he gets home. I don't think I ever even knew he got gas for the car. It's just always full, or half full. But never empty. And it's always clean. And now it's filthy. And I'm wracking my brain trying to figure out when he gets this stuff done...there's even that little sticker in the windshield that says the next time I have to get the oil changed, which is exactly  three months from the day before he left for Again-istan. When did he find time do that? I thought he just mowed the lawn...
That man must sit there biting his tongue to keep from laughing when I bitch about my day and how much stuff I had to do. And he'll get up and (now that Lent is over) pour me a glass of wine and nod and make his little lists and let me prattle on about how I clearly must be SuperWoman for picking up the dry cleaning before I went to work.

In my car that's full of magic gas.

I'm stupid.

Hurry home, McLovin...or we may have to move into a new house. This one is a mess.

love, Kate

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