Leader of the…Pack?

My husband and I decided long before we married that probably one child would be enough for us. We were completely fine with it but it seems no one else was.

Them: So, when are you going to have another child?

Me: Um, never…

Them: Oh my, I’m sorry.

Me: No, really, it’s okay.

Them: So what is it? His sperm? Your eggs? You know, my husband’s sperm are slow swimmers. Just stand on your head, it’ll turn those bastards into a pack of little Mark Spitzes.

Me: Well, no, there’ no problem there. We just don’t want to have any more.

Them: (GASP) WHAT??? Oh.my.god. That is totally not a real family. No, two is a family, but one? One is a pet.

Okay dude, like really? If I had a dime for every time I got that reaction or something close to it, I’d have to change my name to Ivana Trump. All I know is there are a lot of people walking around with more balls than Yankee Stadium.

So, if we are not a family, then what are we?  A pack of dogs?  A pet sitting service?  Well, she has always been good at fetching my slippers.  I guess we should have changed her name to Fido.

Manual Labor was Invented by the Devil

I absolutely abhor manual labor.  I know I speak for many.  I can almost hear the collective headshakes.  Honestly, if it’s cleaning day and Satan calls with an opportunity to sit in hell for all of eternity instead, I’d take it.  Anything to get out of housework.  When my DH wants me to help him rake the yard, I feign The Black Plague just to get out of it.

Laundry.  There are 3 people living in this house.  There should be no more than MAYBE a load a day and that is still too much.  But no, it’s more like 3-4 loads PER DAY!  I do believe I have one of those magic laundry baskets because as soon as I empty it, it fills up within seconds.  No I mean it…literally seconds.  Like I said, 3 humans live in this house.  THREE.  I know, I don’t get it either.

And my all time fave — Grocery shopping.  I wake up with stomach cramps and the sweats on grocery day.  I’m sorry, unless you go to the store at midnight, it seems that every day is senior day.  I love the seniors, I will be one myself sooner than I care to speak about, but come on.  I don’t mind walking slowly when I’m sauntering down the beach with a margarita.  How about when the little buggers stop in the middle of the isle to talk to their old cronies about which fiber supplement they use?  It took all the energy I had just to get there…please move along people.

My motto:  Life is short, why do anything when it will still be there tomorrow?  Well, it’s not tomorrow yet.  This is what was on my Christmas list:  a maid, a cook (oh right, I really don’t like cooking either), and/or a laundress.  I didn’t get any of the above.  And for the record, I never even asked for a magic laundry basket.  Thanks a lot Santa.