Okay. I wouldn’t make a good housewife. You might think I would. I don’t really like to work. I wear skirts and lipstick a lot. I vacuum unironically in high heels.
(I don’t know why my only frame of reference for housewife is June Cleaver. My own mother hasn’t work a skirt since, I think, she was pregnant with me. And she’s a lovely woman.)
But I wouldn’t be. Because I may have to wash a dish occasionally. And I really don’t like doing that.
We’ve always had a dishwasher. So while I am actually responsible for the dishes, this mostly involves just collecting them from around the house and putting them in the dishwasher. And then letting it clean them while I Facebook stalked.
At least until yesterday. When that whole side of the kitchen decided to explode and spray water and you know what, I kind of stopped paying attention because it was boring and stressful and What Not To Wear was on.
So I’m not totally sure what happened. But I do know that both the sink and the dishwasher are out of commission and everyone in the house dealt with that by…not doing any of the dishes from yesterday? And then not doing any of the dishes from today? So by tonight we had no silverware left and it took me FORTY FIVE MINUTES to wash all the damn dishes and now I can’t feel my fingers they’re so chapped?
Yeah. That’s what happened.
On Monday Plumber Guy is coming out. Thank goodness. I love Plumber Guy. I am generally in favor of all people who come to my house and make major convenient appliances work. I don’t care if you’re gross, stinky, creepy, or all three like that guy who wouldn’t stop talking to me about my underwear but whatever, he fixed the washer. I would have given him a pair if he’d asked. Hell, I would have modeled it for him.
But I especially love Plumber Guy. He also came to Grandpa’s house a few times, most notably on the day when we were tearing up the carpeting. Except the carpeting refused to be torn…and there were tears and perhaps some less-than-ladylike words and I may have threatened to tear my cousin or something, look, I don’t really remember, it was a very stressful time. But Plumber Guy came out and helped us and actually ended up tearing up most of the carpeting. And then told us lots of juicy stories about his dysfunctional family.
So. Plumber Guy. If there’s ever anything you need, I’m your girl.
Except the underwear thing. Because that was just weird.