I quit my job. I decided I'd rather be a housewife. Today is the first day in my new role. This is how it's came along thus far....
I over slept. I got a phone call from my husband, Beau. "What are you doing chickenbutt?" {that's the best pet name he can come up with? I must say it beats his former pet name for me, "chunky monkey". Talk about charming husbands...} I say to my sweetheart, "Nothing", because you can't think right out of a deep sleep. Just can't. I asked him what he was doing and he replied he was on his way home for lunch. LUNCH?!? I slept til lunch time! Not very impressive for my first day on the new job as housewife, aka household six. {army lingo, which I've yet to understand any of} I had to admit in my tell-tell voice that I was/had been sleeping. I hear a chuckle. Ugh! I don't want to hear anything about me being a spoiled wife AGAIN. I am a spoiled wife, I just hate admitting to it.
Beau walks in and looks around the living room, I know its a tad unkempt, I'm following his eyes as he's going over the chair full of unfolded clothes. Argh, he spots shoes tucked under the couch. A crooked smile spreads across his lips when his eyes finally land on my dishevelled appearance. I suddendly feel like a two year old who's been caught doing something bad.
So, I do what any normal woman would do in this situation. I patted the cushion beside me on the couch {so enticing like} and asked for a kiss. Distraction is key! Remote control nearby; priceless. I mean seriously, if ever in a sticky situation with the husband, sex or remote control can get you out of just about anything. I was willing and ready to use either one. Thankfully the remote caught the eye of the husband first. {I know I'm no sex kitten and having slept til noon without a shower or a comb touching my hair didn't through off any sexual vibe for sure, you saved me remote, you saved me.} After snuggling in my soldiers arms for a few, suffering through a small, thank you Jesus, portion of Mad Max, I sweetly asked if he was hungry. No. Huh? Ok, fine I don't mind being lazy a little longer. Guilt settled in. Stupid, stupid guilt. I asked again if I could fix my hard working husband something to eat. He sighed and said, "Sure, make me a sandwhich." It almost felt like he was doing ME a favor. I rolled my chunky monkey bottom off the couch, woman on a mission. Sandwhich made, with all the trimmings. Proud housewife moment as he bit into this awesome ham and cheese, damn I'm good.
Hubby goes back to work. I'm left standing in the kitchen. What now? Do I actually clean? Dishes need washing, funny how when I was working and the kids did the dishes it didn't bother me that the dishwasher was broke but now, it just sucks outloud! Our bedroom looks like the closet thrown up about ten times, spewing forth clothes and shoes. I'm comfortable with this look. Army Beau on the other hand cannot "live like this". Bathroom is fine, living room needs to be picked up and oh not to forget those clothes that need to be folded. {heaven forbid I even have to put them "up"}
So you wanna know what this housewife did? She plopped her plump bottom down on the computer chair. Checked her Facebook and made a blog. Hey, it's a beginning. I have to start somewhere, dusting this chair is a start!
I'll finish up my first day on this new job later tonight. I think I'm going to love being a 1950's housewife. So far it's pretty easy!
