Yeah. I read somewhere today that women (on average) do one hour more of household chores per day than men do. In my household, that’s probably true. I don’t care about the disparity. We aren’t counting hours and he makes it up by handling some of the stuff that I either hate or don’t know how to do. Car repairs and maintenance. I whine, “My tire light is on again,” and he goes out there and pumps up whatever ultra-sensitive performance taaar is making the fricking light go on. Rodent control. I eeeeeeek, “A scurry mouse is in the chitchen,” and he sets traps and *empties* them, even at that bat scope hour of the morning. Me? I do the laundry (over and over and over again ad nauseam). I cook and wash dishes and attempt to keep the Landfill clean and as un-cluttered as possible.

Don’t get me wrong. The GG can do all of those things (and when he is in the right mood, he does them much better than I do!) but I am a control freak in those areas and he probably wouldn’t do those things as regularly as I do. At least he isn’t like my old coot, who could make PBJ sandwiches and grill steaks and not much else. Well, he was *wonderful* at wielding a vacuum cleaner. Anyway. After his bank was acquired by a holding company and he was promoted to CEO (of his bank, not the holding company), his new employers said something like, “Jack, you have to stop with the PBJs and start eating lunch out.” That was in the days of the three martini lunch. I know that he enjoyed those lunches but I think he had been happy eating lunch in his office too. I guess he had come a long way from the days when he helped his banker father collect cows from Sugar Island but that’s another story and one I have told a few times before.

I am off on a tangent. Chores. Once when I got to work, I mentioned that I had done my skunk walk and then some chores. The LSCHP was a bit dumbfounded. I think he equated the word “chores” with milking cows and things. Not so much around here. Laundry, dishes, taking the compost out, cleaning the Blue and Only Bathroom, etc.

I walked to the Plum Market after work today. We didn’t have any food. Oh, that’s not true. We have little bits and pieces of leftovers around but nothing that I can cobble together into a reasonable leftover dinner like some of My Dear Uncle Harry’s Mother’s March On Leftovers dinners. So I bought some sea scallops and I am gonna saute them with some veggies, etc. This is the third time in four days that I have walked to the Plum for grokkeries. I love walking over there but this means that I am not in control of my chitchen or refrigimatator. Is that okay? I guess it has to be. Live in the moment, KW!

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