March 24, 2008
Toilet Paper and Hair Dye
Since I’ve been home every single day, the bulk of the household chores have now become mine. I’m not complaining. Not entirely. I really do enjoy picking up after my husband, my son and my dog. They are my boys. I love them so.
However, what I don’t enjoy is the way they constantly leave the same things in the middle of our living room, over and over again.
Like Doug’s shoes! He takes them off leaves them in the middle of the floor, and then I end up tripping on them as I zoom from room to room on my broom cleaning and dusting and putting things away.
Or Dawson’s toys! It doesn’t matter how many times I put a certain toy away after he’s finished playing with it, the toy magically makes it’s way back to the hot zone next to my husband’s size 12 boats.
Or Murphy’s bones! He has two nylon bones that he chews on and leaves them all over the house. Do you have any idea how many times I’ve nearly broken an ankle because I’ve accidentally stepped on one of them?
I’ve actually fallen into a routine. Wake up at 7:30. Eat half a bagel and an omelette. Work online for four hours. Finish work and then yell at Dawson to pick up his shit. Put all the pillows and cushions back on the couch. Follow the kid around until all his toys are back where they belong. Dust and vacuum the living room. Blow up the damn TV that always seems to have SpongeBob on. Make all the beds. Vacuum the bedrooms. Clean the bathroom. Do the dishes, sweep the kitchen floor and take the garbage out. When the husband comes home from work, escape to the gym. Rinse and repeat as necessary, seven days a week.
And then in the midst of all of this, my husband uses the very last roll of toilet paper and doesn’t tell me. I don’t discover this until I have to pee and realize I have nothing to wipe with. So I shake myself dry and do you know how infuriating it is to shake female your parts over the toilet seat and hear your butt cheeks flap? And you wonder why I go to the gym obsessively?
So this weekend, I told my husband how angry I was that he didn’t tell me we were out of toilet paper. He gave me his usual excuse that he forgot or maybe he said he didn’t tell me on purpose to drive me over the edge, I’m not sure because I was so mad I started to hyperventilate.
Anyway, as I’m calmly discussing the situation screaming, my husband, who is much taller than me says, “Wow…are you getting gray.”
I can feel my face getting hot. He inspects the top of my head. “Holy hell, woman, you’ve got a dozen gray hairs on the top of your head.”
I do not think this is funny. Not funny at all.
“If this is some stupid male tactic to distract me from what I was yelling at you about, it’s not going to…OUCH!” He plucked a hair from the top of my head. Sure as rain, the hair he pulled was as white as snow.
“Okay, so that’s just one…OWWW! Stop pulling hairs!” I look to see the second white hair in his hand. I began to cry.
“There’s like, ten more. You want me to get those out, too?” my husband asked.
“Are you fucking nuts? An army of silver hairs will come back to replace the two you just killed.”
Through my tears, I got up, put on my shoes, grabbed my keys and started out the door.
“Where are you going?” my husband asked.
“I’m going to Wal-Mart,” I said. “To get toilet paper.”
“Don’t forget the hair dye!” he shouted after me.
Not funny. So very not funny. I’m only twenty-nine! I was prepared for gray at 40, but not at my age. I’m still young. Right?
RSS feed for comments on this post.
TrackBack URI
March 26th, 2008 at 11:54 AM, Dana Says:
Something happened to my blog — this post and all it’s comments disappeared. I was only able to recover the post from bloglines, but the comments are gone. I’m so terribly sorry for the confusion. To all my commenters, I love you so and I did get to read them before they vanished!
March 26th, 2008 at 11:56 AM, mammacheryl Says:
Holy crap. I would have kicked him in the nads. That all being said, I’m only 26, and I have more gray hairs than I can count. How’s that for depressing.
March 26th, 2008 at 11:56 AM, PunditMom Says:
Oh man. He’s still lucky to be alive. As for gray hairs, I can’t keep up with mine. Do I give in and go gray altogether?
March 26th, 2008 at 11:57 AM, daisy Says:
Not to depress you more but I got gray starting at 23. Now at 46 if I didn’t color my hair every 5 weeks I’d…well…I’d be crying all the time.
March 26th, 2008 at 11:57 AM, Liz Says:
What mammacheryl said, except I’m 40-something-or-another and will continue to deny my inner gray for a very long time to come!
March 26th, 2008 at 11:58 AM, Leslie Says:
Does Doug have a death wish? He’s lucky to be alive. And it is true – kill a gray hair and six friends will come to the funeral.
Dave is going gray. I wrote him this haiku:
Unwelcome surprise
Gray hair on your head that shines
Like moon beam kisses
March 26th, 2008 at 11:58 AM, Wifey's House Says:
Too funny, I mean so sad – smiles! Your house sounds like mine – right down to the damn dog’s bones and lack of toilet paper.
March 26th, 2008 at 11:59 AM, Daisy Says:
As a distraction, the gray hair issue was a failure. I tell people I don’t need hair dye; I’ve EARNED my gray. The toilet paper deal alone would prove it!
March 26th, 2008 at 2:06 PM, Nicole Says:
My husband insistst that I always leave the toilet paper roll empty, but I don’t. I leave it with SOME on it and a roll right next to the toilet. I don’t think I can get much more helpful!
As for grey, I was in denial until my (then 2 year old) told me my hair was white. I got my hair colored back to red within a few days of that.
March 28th, 2008 at 6:56 PM, Izzy Says:
You vacuum every day? Way to make me feel like a TOTAL slacker…
And at 40, which is SO not old (trust me, you’ll feel the same in 11 years) I only have about 2 grays hairs. Don’t hate me