Come on, even I knew it was inevitable, so let’s make the best of it and celebrate. Grab a glass, pull a chair up to the table, and pop the cork off the champagne.
After three, almost four months of marriage, I have discovered two major problems. Actually, there are at least one hundred fifty-three and a half major problems, but there are two that make for prime ranting material. Look, I know the truth– men are weird, they’re slobs, and they have no brains. I mean, come on, that’s why I married him; I’m obviously smarter and I like it that way. (Actually, perhaps he is the smart one; he did marry up.)
However, there are certain things one does not expect to come out of one’s mouths on a regular basis, at least not before having children.
“Can you please get your dirty pants off the dining room table”, is probably one of them.
Let’s face it: housework is disgusting. Sex is disgusting. Cleaning up the expired food from the refrigerater is disgusting. But, what would possess someone to leave their dirty pants on the dining room table? To put them there to begin with? Wadded up, no less?
We have three perfectly capable hampers, two in the bedroom and one in the bathroom. Now, I would be useless on the witness stand, since I am not usually awake when my husband gets up in the morning, but I am pretty sure he doesn’t strip naked or shower in the dining room. Actually, I’d rather not know. Either way, there are a lot of repulsive things I have taken on with marriage, but I have to draw the line somewhere. Eating from my husband’s not-so-pleasant end was not in my vows. (At least, I’m pretty sure; that day was pretty blurry.)
The second item is quite a puzzle: what does one do with the old, empty toilet paper roll, after replacing it with a new roll? Well, with confetti, tape and coloured plastic wrap, one can make a kaleidoscope. For the musically inclined, a shaker is a handy instrument. Or here is a novel idea: throw it in the trash can that resides directly under the sink, less than three feet away from the toilet.
My husband is a rare breed in that he does actually replace the roll. He manages to get it in the correct position, as well. (Over, not under, don’t fight me.) In fact, I’m the one that rarely, if ever, replaces it. There is a shelf behind the toilet, and it makes a wonderful table for the new roll, honestly.
Anyway, I digress. The puzzle, the enigma, the dilemma of the century: what do you do with the old roll? Why, you throw it on the floor, of course! It makes perfect sense; there is a shelf behind the toilet, a counter in front of the toilet, even a bath tub to the left of the toilet, and a trash can within an arm’s reach of the toilet, but none of these places make near as much sense as the uncluttered, spacious, open floor.
Perhaps, it is my fault. I must have said something in those pesky, hazy vows. Perhaps, instead, I have set a bad example. I have regularly neglected to replace the toilet paper roll. Occasionally, I do something completely outrageous: I wash the dirty clothes, thereby causing one of the three previously empty hampers to be filled with clean, folded clothes. I have obviously, directly given my husband permission to throw trash on the floor and put his dirty pants on the dining room table. Indeed, I am a terrible terrible wife.
Funny, I look forward to having children. At least we’ll have a myriad of toilet paper rolls for art projects. And, I’m all about starting new family traditions– de-pantsing before dinner! It will become our favourite pastime! It will definitely make Thanksgiving dinner easier– no need to unbuckle your belt when you’re stuffed. Is there a way to creatively combine the activities?
I know, I know. I might possibly, maybe, be a tad on the sarcastic side.
Oh, hey, before I forget, you might not want to set your glass there.
2 Comments
Wait, sex is disgusting?
Sure it is. But, I didn’t say I didn’t like disgusting, did I?