Domestic Hell

Picture this...You have a very stressful career where very ill people rely on you. You have a child who you swear is a male version of Veruca Salt of "Willy Wonka" fame. You have a husband you have to keep motivated on a daily basis, and just about every responsibility in the home rests on your shoulders. Do you have the mental image? Good!

Now picture this...Keeping in mind the above-mentioned lifestyle, you find yourself home alone. The male Veruca is safely in the hands of a competent child care service. The man has been successfully motivated for the day and has left for the gym. The largest of the day's tasks have been completed and checked off of the to-do list. So here is my question: What would you do???

I have candles lit, and thus the house smells like a freaking apple orchard. Other than the hum of laundry equipment, the house is silent. I have just started reading a great novel which I would love to pick up right now. I need to blog. So where is the problem?

The problem is that house is so messy that a stranger could possibly mistake it for an abandoned crackhouse! There are dishes piled on the counter, and a dishwasher full of clean dishes that are begging to be put in their place. My kid's playroom resembles a city dump. I have been off since Monday morning, so why is it like this? Better yet, my husband's only responsibility in life is to PT twice a day, period. Why hasn't he done this? The first question, I can answer by explaining that laundry has consumed my days and nights for three days. Yes, there was that much of it! about 15 loads! Now I have about 24 hours before my work week starts again (less if you figure that I must sleep at some point) and I am going to have to scramble and slave if I want to have a reasonably habitable home by the weekend. You see, I have taken a much-needed and well-deserved DAY OFF this Saturday for the big game. I refuse to be thinking about dirty dishes or laundry while I watch said game, or my neurotic self will be thinking about those things instead of how badly OSU is beating Michigan.

All of this has caused the gears in my brain to rotate clockwise or counterclockwise. I don't know which, as one should never have to figure how the cogs in my brain operate! And part of me, albeit teensy-tiny, makes me believe that I can lick the role of Military Spouse quite well. The only responsibilty the Man fulfills is of the seasonal variety, for which I can pay a neighborhood kid twenty bucks to perform---lawnwork for the chick who is allergic to grass and trees and anything that is green. As it is right now, I thrive on the moments when the Man and Kid are out of the house and I don't have to vacuum circles around them. It is hard to get the dust and lint off of sofa cushions and fluff said cushions when there is a 180-pound man laying on them. It is very difficult to get laundry finished when said Man returns from the gym, leaving a small heap of sweaty gym clothes and a wet towel on the floor next to an empty hamper. ( If you are a Man or know a Man, I do not have to explain this---it is beyond the capabilities of a Man to actually aim for the hamper!)

I know that it is inevitible that I will revisit this post months from now, when Man is likely to be deployed. And I will weep because he is nowhere to be found. I will miss the heap of sweaty clothes on the floor by the hamper or the imprint of his rearend on the sofa where he always sits. I will lament over my ability to watch a chick flick without a pop-up reminder flashing on the screen for some random Man entertainment like wrestling or Jerry Springer.

But as for me, right now, I am in my own little domestic Hell. So while Man is gone and Kid is gone, I will blare my chick music (of which I am not permitted to listen while Man or Kid is present) and I will clean their home. Then this weekend I will watch as my football team beats Man's football team to a pulp in a home that smells of Pine Sol and carpet freshener!