The Mad Housewife
By ... Mama Needs Whiskey
It was one of those days. First the washing machine had gone on strike, the 15-year-old had come home with an injured football helmet, and then I had returned from my dip in the car pool to find Ginger, the beloved family tabby, dead on the kitchen floor. It looked like the poor thing had been hit by a car and come inside to die. Holding back the tears, I hid the kitty behind some bushes for later burial and decided to say nothing to the kids until dinner time.
Naturally, this night my husband was held up, and arrived just as the meat loaf was breathing its last. "Dear, " I said, as he dug in, "there's something we have to discuss. The c-a-t has been k-i-l-l-e-d". "What does that mean" said nine-year-old Billy, not fooled for a second. "It means rest," said noble husband coming to the rescue, "that Ginger has gone to sleep for a long time."
"See Nancy," replied Billy, " I told you they had nine lives. We clubbed the little fucker with a brick and he's just sleeping it off!"
I knew it would happen sooner or later. But after all, I was the one who had insisted on our getting a five-speed, two-toned, chrome-bumpered leaf blower in the first place. It was either that or you-know-who out there with a rake and a very sore back. So we got one, and it was the very same contraption that my husband was putting to use as I conducted an investigation to find out which one of the twins had come up with the delightful idea of making tiny pinholes in Mommy's diaphragm last June.
That out of the way, we climbed into the SUV, hubby replacing one steering wheel for another, and set off backward down the driveway right into a pile of leaves and the unmistakable and sickening crunch of a small child being run over. "Uh-Oh!" I said, "we've just run over one of our children." "No, we haven't dear," said unflappable hubby. "It's the four-year-old from down the block, I saw playing the the leaves a few minutes ago. You always expect the worst," and having put Mom in her place, proceeded to set sail for the supermarket.
And then there was he time my husband woke up with an extraordinary plan ... he was going to find out just who he was supporting. It was high time, he announced, that the captain of this ship knew the size and condition of his complement, from romper room to attic ... even down to the details like wives and pets.
After he pried the twins away for the television, with the help of a crowbar and a lot of muscle, and flushed the various inhabitants of our shaky craft from their hiding places, he assembled the entire sleepy crew on the front lawn. "All right, troop," he barked, " is there anyone here who knows of any inhabitants, animal or human, that are not clearly visible on this deck?" "Please, Dad ... I mean, Captain," ventured our youngest, "what about Mom's pussy?"
"That's not very funny," snapped loyal hubby. "I suspect someone else was feeding it because I haven't seen hide nor hair of it for months".
Some days ... it just doesn't pay to get out of bed.
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