Tuesday, January 17, 2006

Lazy-Ass Interrupted

I am so goddamn tired because my husband hurt his fucking ankle he broke it and where does that leave me? I know, it's sad, his foot hurts, but I am not the laundry, bed-making, walk-the-dog-in-the-dark, neaten-up type. I'm creative, imaginative. I flow with my own mess. My stacks of things slide around like towers of Jello and my papers are everywhere. I am way too busy listening to my daughter's stories, drinking tea, working, reading, talking to my son, writing, lying in bed, and rolling over to do the fucking laundry! As I told my husband 14 years ago, when he had a momentary psychotic break and assumed I'd do a lot of housework because I had a little baby to look after, I am not Betty Fucking Crocker!

But now actually, I am. And I don't want to be. I work the whole day, for crissakes. There is no time to add an egg, mix, and bake. I grew up in an upper middle class household, but I am a parent in a middle class household. That means there is no cleaning lady, except for my husband. We pay two women to clean for a couple hours every two weeks so that mold doesn't grow in the bath tub. Apart from that kind contribution, no one is doing any housework around here now except me. For at least two months. And I am sad. Lucy Ricardo wouldn't put up with it. Lucy from Peanuts wouldn't put up with it. Why must I?

Do I sound obnoxious because I am lucky to have a roof over my head? Well, I know! But that does not preclude me from kvetching (complaining) because cleaning sucks. Is there someone around who likes it? Are we, like, proud of a neat house? What am I, Lady Stepford? I would rather spend my time picking a zit - as long as it didn't bleed all over and ruin my face for weeks - than clean the house. I would rather eat bleu cheese, which tastes like vomit. I would rather do just about anything. But I have no choice, lest I be written in the Bad Mother Book. Thus far, I've received only a footnote, and I'd like to keep it that way.

Goodbye, naps. Goodbye, couch. Goodbye, good books. Goodbye, tidy house.

Aw, crap.