My husband claims I write a skewed version of the truth about him once a month. He refers, of course, to PMS days–those dark times when Hubby and the kids find it necessary to Pummel My Sanity.
Well, I say turnabout is fair play. After all, his co-workers receive a skewed version of the truth about me daily. This makes for some pretty bizarre conversation at company parties.
HUBBY’S CO-WORKER: So glad to finally meet you. I heard all about your incredible diet!
CO-WORKER: How you lost 300 pounds! Yeah! And before that–how you made a size 66 wedding dress–from SAIL CLOTH, for gosh sakes–it’s inspirational!
ME: I am inspired to explain something about my husband’s sense of humor…
Or take this beach picnic chat:
HUBBY’S CO-WORKER: So! You completed a dog obedience course recently, eh?
COWORKER: Tell me how exactly you used those techniques to teach your kids to fetch!
COWORKER: Must be something to see that kid balancing a bonbon on his nose!
ME: Excuse me a minute, will ya? Oh, Hubby dear, where are you?
I figure I have years of payback to squish into a monthly Pummel My Sanity column.
Speaking of which, ever notice how some men act when they’re confronted with housework they don’t normally do, like cleaning bathrooms or doing dishes?
HUBBY: This kitchen is a sty! (Hubby is an engineer with incredible powers of observation.)
HUBBY: Somebody needs to clean it up! (Here he uses an engineer’s problem-solving capabilities.)
HUBBY: Yep. Somebody needs to clean up this sty! (Engineers recap a lot, unless it’s a toothpaste tube.)
ME: Hubby, I’m swamped! Maybe you could do it?
HUBBY: Oh, sure, you’d like that. Why don’t I just take over ALL the household chores? I’m practically doing everything right now.
ME: You mow the lawn and you wash your car.
HUBBY: What else needs to be done around here?
To be totally fair, I admit Hubby works a lot of overtime at his day job, which is why I usually do the housework. And he does clean the kitchen occasionally.
Usually it goes like this:
HUBBY: I am DOING the DISHES NOW. Where is the detergent? What? I have to scrub pots? Why are we using pots? Where did all the dirty plates come from? Yuck! Gross. Are those crumbs on the floor? Yes! There are crumbs on the floor! Who left those crumbs on the floor? Where does this pan go? Where do we put the salt and pepper? Hey, the honey jar is sticky! Don’t look at me like that, little missee. I’m just trying to understand how come the honey jar gets sticky!
The soliloquy lasts about an hour. Then the boys and I get a tour.
HUBBY: This is what a clean kitchen looks like. Just look at this nice, clean kitchen. And see, I swept the floor. I used the broom. I used the dustpan, too. And I pushed the chairs in at the table! The toaster’s put away, too. Cool, hunh? And no spills on the cooktop, because I cleaned them all up. And see here? I cleaned out the sink. I used a non-abrasive cleanser. Yup! No scratches. This kitchen never looked so good.
ME: Sure it does! When I clean it up.
HUBBY: You clean?
In conclusion, I want to squelch once and for all a rumor going around at Hubby’s place of employment
After Hubby regained consciousness, the reverend did find him competent enough to continue with the ceremony. Therefore we ARE legally married.
PMS my foot.