I am so sorry y’all, but this is not going to be pretty.  It is currently 80 bagallion degrees in the condo and I think the cats have mutated sweat glands so when I receive the Nobel prize in genetics you can say you knew me when.

What makes me so mad about this is that WE KNEW!  WE KNEW the AC had a leak!  We had our friendly, neighborhood AC guy come several times last year to check and test and recharge and perhaps give a handjob to our compressor.  Last time he was here, he seemed…not that confident.

But he was such a good guy!  And he picked up the phone when we called!  (If you do not currently have an AC guy, this is #1 priority in picking an AC guy.  Over whether they can actually fix stuff.)  We wanted to BELIEVE in our AC guy.  So we shut our eyes to the fact that, ya know, AC AIN’T FIXED.

It’s been in the 80s here in central FL for a few weeks, but the night time lows plus several cold fronts resulting in only a few steady days of heat at a time meant I hadn’t really turned on the AC much this year.

But Friday…it was hot.  And both of us were home.  And I baked muffins, then protein bars, then roasted a chicken.

And after having the AC on for a few hours, we decided we like our money too much to give it all to Progress Energy and we turned the sucker off.

And then we set up some fans, took the dog to a friend’s, and went hiking.  Because…what else you gonna do?

It wasn’t until Sunday night, after my after-camping shower had worn off and I might have possibly had a slight stomach ache from comsuming my weight in pizza (Ask me how weight loss is going!), that I felt fullblown stress over our lack of cooling breeze.

I think we can all agree that I’m not a girl who is afraid to take charge.  Get things done.  Bull=horns=Jessica in Progress.

Except…I am not southern.  And not a guy.  And I cannot keep panic and outrage out of my voice that my problem is not everyone’s #1 priority.

Tom’s profient at all 3 and damn.  That shit works.  So it just became a lot easier to make him responsible for certain aspects of our household, like those that require outside assistance.

Except…he travels for work.  All.  The.  Time.  And our AC/dishwasher/microwave don’t travel with him (although he did drive around for months with a small fridge in his car because the hotel we stayed in at New Year’s didn’t give you one free in the room and it was so much cheaper to just buy one then pay their rental price and aren’t we smart expect no one on craigslist wants a mini fridge and it is an everlasting reminder to 1) never book on orbitz again 2) never book within 72 hours of your father’s funeral because you’re stressed the vacation’s not set).

Wow….just.  Wow.

ANYWAY.

So, it’s partially Tom’s fault because out-of-sight-something-something and partially mine because I did not keep my nagging skills up to snuff.  But Sunday night he jumped into hero mode by making a lot of phone calls and leaving manly, southern, non-panicked messages.

Short story long?  We have new AC guys.  Who are not quite as prompt as our old one, but they did just call me (3 hours late) to tell me they’ll be here in an hour and a half.  Oh yeah, and they also had hydrogen AND nitrogen and cut lines and had much more impressive tests than Brian ever did PLUS they had a probe beepy thingy.  And you know that means business!  (The tests are impressive because they are expensive.  And take over 24 hours so they can leave you hanging a second time.)

So…we camped at the Withlacoochee State Forest over the weekend.

It was a lot of fun.  We did not get lost on the trail!  Just on the ride up there.  Like, a lot lost.  Or maybe just a little but I really, really, really, really, really had to pee and Tom did not respect my desire to just pull over and pee on that farmer over there.  I told him next time just do what I say.  It will give him another win in the “I told you so” column and isn’t that what every good marriage is about?

Getting to the park late meant hiking in the heat.  (WITH NO AC!)  I will say, the park is more shaded than many others, but the loop we hiked in on had dappled shading at best.  It was also our first time hiking with Tom having trekking poles.  I’ve mentioned before, boy hikes like the wind with poles.  Which can be a good thing sometimes.  But I had to purposely slow my stride to not catch him because I was already sweating buckets.

A major negative to the park is that there is no water anywhere on the trail.  Not pumped.  Not even in the little lakes marked “Lake” so nicely on the map because the “Lake” is really “Bunch of Weeds In a Muddy Ditch”. 

Now, we knew this going in.  And many people cache water by walking/driving straight up forest service roads, dumping water at a good location, then walking/driving back to the start of the real trail and picking up their cache when they reach it.

We did not do this.  It sounded to me like a lot of work.  I’m not sure why carrying 6L of water (at 2.2 lbs/L) did not sound like a lot of work, but it didn’t.  Probably because it could fit in my pack.  That is the backpacker’s horror – if there is room in their pack, they’ll add stuff to it.

6L of water was actually 1L more than I thought I’d need (Tom carried 6 as well).  But with the late!  And the heat!  We both drank 3L upon reaching the campsite.  At 3pm.  Where we needed to cook and live until the morning when we hiked out.  In the heat.

It wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be.  It was worse for me, I think, since I drink about 9L (I shit you not) a day when left to my own devices and bathroom access.  But I am used to rationing myself a bit on hikes.  And it really was OK.  Except that we had NO extra water to dip our bandanas in and wipe grime/sweat off and that would have felt awesome.

Besides the water, we had some great tent antics.

Our tent has 3 parts.  The footprint – basically a tarp to lay flat on the ground that saves your tent bottom from rough terrain.  The tent – a “bathtub bottom” with just bug netting for the rest of it.  The rain fly – basically a tarp that lays over the tent for privacy/warmth/rain.

A pole holds up both the tent and rainfly.  The tent clips to it underneath, the rainfly lays over.

While it is easiest to set it up footprint-tent-rainfly, it is advisable to learn how to set it up rainfly/footprint-tent.  So that if it is actually raining during setup, the “bathtub bottom” of your tent doesn’t fill like a bathtub.

This is how we set up the tent at the campsite.  And we did great until we got to the sides.  It took us a while but we finally figured out our tent was made by MSR, not RSM.  (We put the rainfly - with the logo - on inside out and the side pole attachments are not ambidextrous.)

But then!  When we put the rainfly on right, we crawled in for a nap.  And immediately decided it was too hot.  So we took the rainfly off.  Except then once the sun set it got too cold and damn who took off the rainfly?

One of the lessons learned I put down in our spreadsheet is that when it’s hot, stay up later and put the rainfly on just as there is so little sun you need your headlamp for the tricky parts.

Other lessons learned…don’t bring chocolate when the temp is above 75.  An extra large bandana makes an awesome shirt when you want to dry out your regular one but don’t want to scare other hikers with your white boobs (there was a cache – I think just a tent (yes, I poked it.  I wanted to look into it but Tom told me not to) at the campsite, but no one came by that day/night/morning).  Just cache the fucking water and drink mightily without a care.

We did get a little sleep, and luckily we packed better this time (more real stuff sacs, less garbage bags) so it was an easy break down in the morning after Starbucks Via and some oatmeal.  The hike out was a shorter loop (around 7.5 miles instead of 11.5), and through some amazing old growth forest with lots of shade.  We also walked through a just burned forest (found a smoking log) and a new growth – maybe 3-4 years.  Those weren’t as shady obviously, but it was pretty cool to walk through so many different habitats.

Then we picked up the dog, came home, showered, ordered pizza, and commenced the great AC panic of 2011.  Since we married in the great AC panic of 2007 (where I evidently used the “evolve sweat glands” joke), I guess I should feel nostalgic.  But somehow all that my brain is picking up from my neurons is HOT.

**This list is inappropriate in content, structure, grammar and possibly gravity.  I suggest not reading.

1) Zulu, our Bengal cat, died.  And no death should be trivialized in a list, except that

1a) she lived 4 years longer than expected, with a good quality of life.  You could not ask for more.

1b) I already wrote a post about her for the volunteers at the sanctuary (where she came from).  And while it is not something I mind sharing here, I rarely cross post.

2) Our upstairs hallway was Zulu’s domain.  It has a nice plant ledge looking out into the livingroom that has always been a cat favorite.  After she passed I cleaned the hallway, removed her feeding station, washed the ledge bedding, and moved the litter pan to a more neutral location (it had been smack dab in the middle of the hall with bed/feed station on either end).  The other cats had no problem going upstairs when Zulu was alive for the purpose of

2a) eating Zulu’s leftover food.

2b) using Zulu’s litter box.

2c) tormenting Zulu/getting their ass kicked by Zulu (mood and health dependent).

Zulu has been gone 5 days now and I have only found evidence of the upstairs litter being used once.  This is both frustrating and exciting. 

2d) Anyone with multiple cat boxes in their home can related to how freeing the idea is of one less litter box.

2e) But if I had a choice I’d get rid of the kitchen litter box instead of the upstairs one.

2f) Except that it is a bitch to climb the stairs every day to clean it so maybe I should be happy with the possible status quo.

2g) It’s just sad to think that perfect cat ledge might go to waste.  I bet if I put a plant there that sucker would be dead in 24 hours and the spot claimed.

3) As a follow up to the garden, I prepared some hanging plant bags this morning for my seedlings.  After I filled them with soil, I watered them and found a decent place for them to lay horizontal for a bit before actually planting and hanging per the directions.  As I finished and a little water dribbled onto the floor I muttered, “Well, you certainly didn’t do that as well as you usually do…”  Then I stopped for a moment and reflected

3a)  It was the first time I had EVER done that.  How could I know how well I usually do it?

3b)  I’ve never seen these planter be used period.  How do I know that’s not the best way those planters have ever been filled/watered/layed horizontal?

3c) I really am hard on myself.

3d) But I totally could have done better.  Like I usually do.

4) I don’t really have a fourth thing I was going to talk about but since I feel 3d) was a weak ending I’ll go ahead and tell you guys Tom and I plan another overnight camping trip this weekend.

4a) To a place we’ve never hiked before.

4b) Have I ever mentioned our knack for getting lost?

4c) But Tom found a GPS app for the iPhone so we will totally know where we are at all times.

4d) All times we have signal that is.

4e) And until the battery dies.

4f) It will probably be helpful to know where we are in relation to things such as the campsite, the trailhead, and the rest of the hike, but whatever.

In reality, I have found that when I don’t speak up and let him read the map it’s better for us all around.  I can be very bitchy until I have my way convincing and the fact that I’m one smart ass cookie means he takes my ideas into consideration even though

4g) I have not paid attention to the map until that point.

5) We were supposed to camp this past weekend but the end of my week sucked with

5a) Zulu dying

5b) on the same day tornados came through

5c) which sandwiched my 12 bazillion chores into one day instead of two.

And on Tuesday the wall mounted bookcase decided enough of that and came crashing down.  At 1:30 in the morning.  I was on the lookout for our downstairs neighbors the next day or two to explain and apologize, but when I finally saw the guy 4 days later he swished right past me (and he is not a swishy guy) so I’m thinking they heard it and didn’t appreciate.

5d) But the point is, that left 3 holes and several scrapes along the only painted wall in the livingroom.  And while I was willing to let it go and repair after our camping trip, when everything else came crashing down (metaphorically.  Evidently my furniture provides literal foreshadowing!) we opted to stay home, patch, and repaint.

5e) We did a pretty awesome job.

5f) And didn’t kill each other.

5g) Which is why I married him in the first place.  When you find someone with whom you can

5h) spend 48 hours straight

5i) do major home/car repair

5j) bring home random surprise animals who you swear will keel over in 6 months but then survive past several relatives and yet he/she agrees to having fried chicken as your after-hike meal all the time because it’s the animal’s favorite treat

5k) marry that person.

6) Enough said.

I saw someone recently write they used green goddess salad dressing on St. Patrick’s day, so the name is stuck in my mind.

Plus, I could use some help from up above – be it goddess, angel, or Dad smiling down on me.  Spike the cat just tumbled my newly planted tomatoes down 3 shelves and after I cleaned up the mess I immediately felt the urge to write about my little balcony garden before it is all gone.

I have always loved the idea of a garden.  But in my dream, a garden meant plots of soil in a big backyard.  And of course that’s what I had growing up.  I wish now I had paid more attention to what my Dad did with soil and plants.  But he more enjoyed growing things for ornamental reasons.  His fruits and vegetables were always extras.

In my plan for this year to be more earth-friendly, more down-home, less store-bought, I decided I wanted to grow a little of what we ate right here at home.  In this 1,000 sq. ft condo.  With 4 cats and a dog.

I did some research on both container gardening and Florida gardening.  While many northerns bemoan the short growing season, I was concerned that my plants would dry into little sticks before they flowered, never mind fruited.

And I had a reason to be worried.  (FORESHADOWING)

I settled on growing lettuce, tomatoes (both cherry and regular), peppers, eggplant, basil, and oregano.  Basil and tomatoes are notoriously easy to grow.  Eggplant and peppers are both items I will throw into just about whatever I’m cooking.  And I like salads.

I choose oregano because I felt like I should grow another herb and couldn’t think of a better one.  (Next year, I’m thinking rosemary or dill.  Rosemary goes great with chicken, which we eat a lot.  And dill is an herb you almost never want to use dried.)

For my containers, I chose a mix of regular planters and hanging planters.  I was intrigued by hanging bags found at Park Seed.  They are about 3 feet long with 6 holes for plants to grow out of.  I think I can use two back-to-back on a hook to stabilize each other.  Nothing I want to put in them (the lettuce, peppers, and herbs) is ready to transplant out of their growing pots, so that’s all theory right now.

My regular tomatoes are all in one big regular planter.  The cherry tomatoes are in a regular hanging basket.

And true to their word, the tomatoes have been a breeze.  At 6-8 inches, I transplanted today.  Well, planted further I suppose.  I went with peat degradable starter pots for all my seeds.  I found some trays on sale for $1 at Walmart, a $13 plastic shelf, and some $16 plastic fencing at Lowe’s.  The trays have been crucial in keeping everything well-watered as the temperature has climbed.

Placed on the plastic shelves in a corner of the balcony, with plastic fencing cut in wide berth around them, the seeds all started out quite well.  Except for the peppers.  They were not sprouting for nothing.  Turns out, they are just long germinators.  And they like the heat.  Now, all the peppers and eggplants look quite happy and I can probably think about their permentant growing spot soon.

Not so for the lettuce.

While it started strong, it has been slow growing.  And easy wilting.  I have finally today brought it inside, along with the oregano which started weak and seems to not have grown at all.  Tom swears up and down he told me I could start planting earlier.  What he never said was, “Plant the lettuce early.”  I knew it was a cooler weather plant, but for some reason was really stuck in my mind that I wanted to start all the seeds at the same time.  Lesson learned.

I’m not sure what the oregano’s problem is.  Maybe it just knew from the beginning that it was the red-headed step child and is acting out.

That leaves the basil, which started strong and has now stalled.  I am hoping some more attentive watering will fix that.  I really worried about overwatering in the beginning and I think there is just no such thing in Florida container gardening.  I think I will look into some self-watering containers for next year.

If I decide that this is even worth doing next year of course.  The newly planted tomatoes were on the top shelf of my little unit – where a tray of seeds has been this entire time.  Then there was a BOOM and a SWOOSH (Spike fleeing to under the bed).  I managed to find all the plants in the debris.  And all the fondue forks I had stuck in as mini-stakes for now.  I have cursed and swept and pressed and the planter is now residing on the middle shelf.

Green thumbs crossed, there will be a part II of this sometime.

I’m 36.  And I’ve given up wondering when I’ll start to feel adult.  I am now hoping I can hold onto feeling like a kid for as long as possible.

Things – job hunt aside – have been well.  Overall.  And I started a post about an amazing weekend Tom and I had a few weeks ago, but when I came to back to it I found I’d written about helping one of my favorite cats at the sanctuary.  She died less than a week after that.  Kinda ruined the story for me.

But we did have an awesome weekend.  Both then and just this past one.  I hit a scale-related goal that meant I took a birthday break from calorie counting and there was Teppanaki with a side of Groupon for a cheap and delicious meal.  There was also ice cream, hiking a new (to us) preserve, and taking the dog to the farmer’s market and watching her silently FREAK OUT over the diplay toy dog because WHAT DOES IT WANT FROM ME??

I very much enjoy newness and sometimes will insist on newness for newness sake consequences be damned.  But lately I’ve been trying very hard to like the status quo.  I am looking for stability and sameness in my schedule and accepting that maybe I won’t find another job before we take off for the AT.

Which should be less than a year away now!  Whoo! 

(We actually will agree to any start date between now and July if his company will give him time off with a promise of a job waiting when we get back.)

But, although I may accept my position as Grandma’s purse-holder and Jack Daniel’s supplier and cocktail napkin searcher (have you ever tried to find cute cocktail napkins?), I am also breathing a sigh of relief that we do have some new ideas coming our way.

First off, we have a vacation planned to visit some friends in DC, hike Shennandoah with them, and see some of the capitol.  I’ve never been to DC, we’ve never hiked with these friends, and we’ve never done a multiple day camping trip.  It has disaster written all over it and I am so excited!

Secondly, just days after we discussed the possibility of kayaking, a full day kayak rental was the livingsocial deal in our town.  We have to use it by June 17th, so hopefully it will provide new blog material soon and a new activity that we can do together.  Our current activity list of things to do together encompasses 1) hiking 2) watching TV 3) eating 4) having sex 5) light to medium banter/arguing.  It’s not the worst list, but I am always hoping to include Tom in things that break a sweat and there’s a sex joke in there somewhere.

And…maybe that’s it?  Or all I feel comfortable talking about.   Except I did just take a call from a groomer and booked Lady for the her second-ever complete shave to prep for the summer.  I asked my grandmother for my birthday to take me to a hair salon since she really has been wanting to go but feels silly since she goes to one at her retirement place and hated the idea of breaking her standing appointment so I made it all my fault and now she gets to have her hair done at the place she really liked before when she could drive and I’ll get a trim too which is desperately needed as scissors have not touched my head since CM whacked off 14 inches to send to Locks of Love 2 1/2 years ago.

So all three of us fine looking girls will be sporting new ‘dos by the end of the week and maybe that’s enough to get excited about for now.

If I attempted the purchase of condoms at noon on a Friday in Walmart, there was a 95% chance I’d have an aneurysm waiting for lady with kankle’s to realize she was blocking the entire aisle as she stared at a mushed doughnut display and fantasized about smearing them on her skinny biker boyfriend. 

(Why?  Why is it always skinny biker = fat chick.  And usually large biker = hot chick.  Although not as often as large bikers wish.) 

That’s ironic because Tom would probably not be worried about getting me pregnant while having sex with my corpse. 

When Tom asks why the saran wrap is on his nightstand, I’m going to direct him this way.

One of the things I am loving right now in my life is that I am really only accountable to myself.  I suppose Tom might raise an eyebrow if the condo were on fire when he arrived home.  And my grandma might dither a little with cross-ish noise if I didn’t show up one week because I said watching paint dry took presecedence.  But really, neither of them has ever been as demanding of me as I am.

Which also leads to why one of the things I am hating right now is that I am only accountable to myself.

If I had a regular desk job, I could be receiving such praise for accomplishing so little!  Someone else would tell me when to have things done!

I’m feeling a little fried.  I took on February with guns blazing and now I am out of ammo.  Every week I set myself goals – how little TV I’ll watch, how much I’ll exercise, how many jobs I’ll apply for, how many shits I’ll take (12).

Every week I make this goals, reach for them, succeed, then sit down Monday and think, “How can I make myself better?  What can I do more?  What should I do less?”

Does it sound annoying to you?  If not, I must be telling this story wrong.  “Tell better stories.”  That’ll have to go on the list.

For Valentine’s day (or really, the Sunday before since Tom flew out Monday AM), I requested we watch Casablanca.  Tom always vetos any movie choice I make in black and white, so it’s been forever since I saw it.  I forgot how awesome it is, and Tom admitted it was much better than he was antiscipating. 

We had the following conversation afterwards:

Me:  Baby, I’d totally sleep with a cafe owner for your letter of transit.

Him:  Yeah?

Me:  Yeah.

Him:  Baby, you’d sleep with a cafe owner for my bar tab.

Me:  Yeah?

Him: Yeah.

Me:  Yeah.

Just feeling not quite right this week.

Two weeks ago I did a lot of research and started planning to do some container gardening on our patio.  Vegetables and herbs.  But then the weather here has been too cold to try and start seeds outdoors and my online order of vertical planters hasn’t arrived yet.  (When they arrive and if they are a success I’ll share the details.)  With four cats and limited space it’s not practical to try and start seeds indoors.  This all goes against my gut approach of “Do now, google later if things go wrong”, but I really want this to be successful.

I’m chugging away at the job hunt.  I’m waiting to hear back from an interview, but I’m not holding my breath.  I have a hunch I should re-vamp my resume, but it is in the style a professional created for me a few years ago and it got lots of attention then.  I’m just pretty bad at selling things, including myself.  I get antsy as we get to the middle of the month because that’s when Grandma pays me for the next month.  And each month I think, “Maybe I’ll get a job offer before then and can turn down her check!”

After months of vaguely discussing having an aquarium for the soothing effect and cat enrichment, Tom got serious with the planning and craigslist-shopping and finally put fish in it this weekend.  The fish are too small for all but one of our cats to notice, and this morning I realized I just signed up for one more chore that is solely mine Monday-Friday.  (Yeah, yeah, fish are not exactly high maintenance.  But unless they start learning to clean cat litter pans, they add to the mental juggle of home care.)

I started participating a bit in the online forums connected to a particular weight loss app I use.  I forgot how annoying it is when someone ignores your specific questions and provides their own ramble of how they disagree with your basic eating/exercise/breathing.  Lesson learned.  Again.

I am now wondering if I do that or have that done to me in conversations and don’t realize because it’s not printed out right in front of me.

I keep emails and/or draft emails of things that aren’t quite to-dos but I need to keep in my general consciousness.  Reward points that should be awarded within 30 days, online shopping orders that I haven’t received, timeline of not-exactly-sick-but-not-exactly-well behavior of a cat, etc.  I have nine draft emails right now and for some reason that depresses me.

Sometimes I am in a group, or even one on one, and the entire time I’m gauging exactly how much input is required of me to continue the conversation flow.  It is amazing how much people like to talk sometimes.

I bet when I am in a conversation and I’m not thinking the above, I ramble on not letting anyone else get a word in. 

Most often I try to schedule myself so that between work and volunteering I still have one day where I don’t have to leave the house.  This week I didn’t.  I dreaded going to volunteer yesterday afternoon, I wanted so badly to just putz around the condo.  I felt better once I got there.  I hope the same happens today.

You would not believe the number of commas I edited from this post.

(I thought about going back and bulletizing this post so you wouldn’t try to follow it straight through.  But I’m too lazy.  Sorry.)

So, for those not in the know, I work a non conventional part-time job driving up to my grandmother’s once a week to help her with chores, take her out to eat, and bring her a movie to watch.  Yes, I’m expensing my netflix account on my taxes. 

About a year ago, her cataracts were very bad and I started this gig with the idea that I might transition her to a true assisted-living facility.  Instead, I saw her through surgery and correct eye wear purchases and while she is not as independent as she was before (girl’s gonna be 90 in June, she’s allowed to slow down), she has adapted her life such that for the near future she’ll stay in her apartment.  (The apartment is in a retirement community that provides certain amenities to facilitate this.)

ANYWAY, that was a long-ass paragraph to sum up two points:  1) pretty obvious why I’m looking for full-time employment elsewhere and 2) while I do draw a salary from this endevour, Tom makes twice as much as I do. 

Tom also travels almost 100% for work.  So you add all that together, and it’s pretty clear who should be pulling most of the domestic duties around here.

Where is that pool boy, anyhow?

After months of slaving away where I spot cleaned the walls, mopped the floors, and dusted the ceiling fans – EVERY WEEK – Tom not only did not notice my efforts, he admitted he felt we weren’t equal partners.

I threw my hands up and sulked for a month or so.  I call that period, “The Bones month”, because I probably spent a good portion of my non work/volunteer time watching seasons 1 – 5.  I suppose we could also categorize it as “The dust bunny month” and “The month you should not walk barefoot in my house”.

But even I can get skeeved out at a mess and feel slothful.  So I set about to work smarter, not harder.  It didn’t take much observation to realize Tom only had a few domestic ideals I needed to adhere to in order for there to be (perceived) equality and harmony in our situation.

And herein lies the rule of the 3 Gs.  As long as these 3 things have been accomplished by the time Tom’s bags hit the kitchen floor, he believes I am doing my fair share.  I hope in passing on this wisdom I can bring peace to other domestic squabbles and allow people more time to watch TV.

1)  Garbage.  The man cannot stand to take out the garbage.  The morning before he comes back, I take it out or at the very least check that it is not too full or too smelly to see us through the weekend.  When the odd chance pops up that the garbage needs attending while he’s home, I do it or at the very least be the one to remember and handle it when we’re heading out somewhere.

2)  Gas.  I am the type of person who knows how many miles I can really get from my car when the gas light comes on.  My trip thingy even includes a DTE guesstimate, but I have long since realized I can push it at least twice as far as the original warning.  28.5 miles my ass.  For Tom, 1/4 tank means PANIC DANGER DANGER WILL ROBINSON GET TO STATION NOW.  And my car is the nicer, more luxury car so it is the one we use over the weekends, and the one Tom will use if given a choice.  If I want him to think I am a responsible, sane person who is dutifully taking care of hearth and home while he’s away, it will have at least a 1/2 tank Friday afternoon.

3)  Groceries.  This one, I will admit, I don’t think is an absolute must.  There are times when Tom doesn’t mind, even enjoys, a trip out for provisions.  But for the most part, he prefers these outings to not be a neccessity.  He cannot come home to no toilet paper, low on peanut butter, or the statement, “Let’s eat out for the next 72 hours!”.  And woe on to me if there is no diet soda in the house.

Granted, there is a tad bit more I achieve every week – some Friday rituals for a spic-n-span house (at a squinty, far away glance.  Which is the eyesight setting through which I believe most men observe their domain).  But really he’ll only notice if I get frustrated with him making a mess of things.

Just don’t check my ceiling fans.