4:30AM, I wake up. My usual time, but today is my day off! Life is good!! Mung-Chi, stupid cat, is sleeping on my lower legs, inhibiting my mobility, and my wife is sleeping beside me. A simple muscle contraction sends the cat flying through the air (she has since forgiven me), and I roll over to my side, summon my wife with my arm, and spoon. Hmmm… seems that bits of me are more awake than other bits; wifey is still asleep though… K. Back to sort-of half asleep for a while.
6:00AM, wife has to wake up soon anyways. A few choice caresses and kisses, and 2 or 3 minutes later, wife is fully awake. Bits of me are soon sleepy again.
9:00AM, wife has gone to work at some indeterminate time before (she kissed me as she left, but I don’t know what time it was). I have to get up: today is trash day. My job. I get up, collect the trash from various locations throughout the house, and roll the 2 cans out to the curb. Screw this, back to bed for a while. I collect Ool-Bo (the other stupid cat) on the way back to bed. Once in bed, I try to convince her to have a happy face, not a mad face. I fail, she escapes.
10:00AM, I wake up again. Get up, take a shower. Drink coffee, surf the net.
~12:00, I realize that I am peckish. What’s for lunch? I investigate, and find that my best and easiest bet is to re-heat some pizza from a few nights ago and have a bit 'o salad. So it is written, so it shall be done. Slight problem: there are no clean dishes anywhere in the house! This, I admit, is entirely my fault. I have been slacking of late, and allowing my wife to be somewhat lax in her duties. I need to crack the whip a bit more! I hand-wash what I need for lunch (a fork and a plate).
~12:20, lunch is done. I carry my plate and fork to the kitchen. There is no place to put them. Surrounding the sink, and in fact slumping into it, is a miniature replication of the Himalaya Mountain range done in dirty plates, cups, glasses, silverware, chopsticks, shot glasses, saucers, etc. It appears that the wife has not done the dishes in the past, oh, week or three. I really have to get on that whip-cracking business! Something must be done. I review in my mind the possibilities: 2 cats, both of them lacking either work ethic or opposable thumbs; wife, at work, won’t be home until maybe 6 or so; me. Crap.
I must do the dishes!! :mad:
Fine. I’m a man. I suck it up and do what needs to be done.
I open the dishwasher. Get this shit: it’s FULL OF DISHES, ALREADY CLEAN! Seems my wife has done the dishes, perhaps 2 weeks ago, and NEGLECTED to empty the dishwasher of the clean dishes!! (refer back to the whip-cracking comments earlier in the post)
I’m 41 years old. I need this shit?
Fine. I suck it up yet again, and empty the dishwasher.
I then re-load the dishwasher with the dirty dishes.
Almost finished, I take apart the coffee machine. The grounds basket and the top of the carafe go in without incident. The carafe itself, however, does not: as I most gently and carefully maneuver the carafe into position on the top rack of the dishwasher, it comes into contact with the granite counter top overhanging the entrance to the dishwasher. doink
Huh. I notice that the carafe has a spiderweb crack in the side.
The doink was a very slight tap. No possibility of it cracking the carafe (or so I assure myself). Must have been the wife.
I call her at work. The conversation below is paraphrased for clarity/comedic effect:
Wife: Hello?
Me: Yo! What up?
Wife: Nada. You?
Me: Why you break the coffee carafe?
Wife: Bitch, what you talking about?
Me: I was doing the dishes, and noticed that the carafe was broken!
Wife: It wasn’t broken when I poured coffee for myself as I left today…
Me: It must have been!
Wife: No, it wasn’t.
Me: Must’ve been!
Wife: No, it wasn’t. Did you hit it against anything?
Me: No! Well, yes, very very very very gently. Against the counter top. Just a slight doink.
Wife: Nice job, idiot. Guess we’re going shopping tomorrow!
So she totally denies responsibility. This is what it’s like to be married and 41.
