Some of you may remember Case Study #1: Garbage night in which I suffered from ire-incited insomnia while Chuck enjoyed unperturbed slumber.
Two years of ire-incited insomnia later I'd like to present Case Study #2: "Still pissed about garbage night." Alternate title: "You call that a weekend?"
Yes, I'm referring to that sandy island I spent all week dog paddling to. I went to an island all right. An island of BVDs*.
I'd like to again quote the article "Chores Can Cause Conflict in Your Marriage" by Sheri and Bob Stritof: "...74 percent of men said the chores were shared; 51 percent of women said chores were shared. Twenty-six percent of men said one person did the housework; 49 percent of the women said the same."
Chuck, your 74 percent is giving my 51 percent dishpan hands, under-eye circles, a serious backache and a mean case of the where's-the-meat-cleaver-I-would-like-to-sledgehammer-your-slumber.
A male's perception of his share in responsibilities vs. the actual amount contributed is so skewed, I bet Sheri wrote the whole fucking article and Bob came along and signed his name and went and told everyone they wrote it together.
Nice job, Bob. Have some BVDs you need laundered?
Yah, that's what I thought.
(If this is the last time the term BVD was in fashion I'm pretty old, huh?)
About me: I'm 42 and added another gherkin to our pickle party of a family. My husband Chuck, our 9-year-old Junior, our 6-year-old Everett, our toddler and I live in a town in Connecticut I affectionately call Mulletville Lite (aka my childhood hometown). My friends call me Nutjob, and they're right. In my husband's spare time he dresses up as a Viking and chases ghosts (and I'm the nutjob?). When I'm not busy working as a graphic designer, I lie in a ball in the corner.