… forgetting about bottling the boundless energy of youth. I don’t want it. What I want is that gene in men that impairs their vision to see and register a messy house.
I am home sick today. My first sick day in years. Did I use this time to rest? Of course not, I am a woman.
Even when I was up at 3am taking a cold shower to bring down my fever, I sprayed the shower with tilex. A few hours later I was up pacing the kitchen packing Tom’s lunch and fixing him breakfast. When I got him to school at 8am did I come home and crash in the bed and try to recover? Of course not, I am a woman.
I preceded to organize my closets, drag out winter clothes and donate the ones that don’t fit to goodwill, do two homework assignments and a test review, do two loads of laundry, run the dishwasher, scrub the toilet and vacuum.
In fifteen minutes I am out the door to head to class and take the test I crammed for this morning. Then I’ll pick up my son from my mom’s, come home and cook dinner, get him in the tub and ready for bed and then head to bed myself.
I’m friggin nuts.
I want that man gene…
…that gene that enables men to sit on the couch and watch an entire football game without feeling guilty for being unproductive. When I watch TV I’m folding laundry or painting my toenails, or both at the same time.
… that man gene that enables men to come straight home from work and park themselves on the couch oblivious to the dust bunnies and dishes in the sink.
… that men gene that prevents their heads from exploding at the sight of an unmade bed.
How? How do you do it?!