I kill the spiders because the male members of the household run like scared little wusses when such a critter makes an appearance creeping across the garage floor.
But when I sneezed the other day, pulling a muscle in my back that caused my entire left side to seize up like I’d been Tasered with a gazillion jolts of electricity?
I quickly realized the passage of time was beginning to take hold of my body and leave me broken with little hope of avoiding the pangs of middle life and that my tough girl reputation was in serious danger.
I couldn’t take a deep breath for days.
And spider killing was out of the question.
So I put the cat on it.
It’s all good.
She’s a girl. She can handle it.
Later that day, the meteorologist on the television offered helpful reminders to those who live in the Tornado Alley of the U.S.
“Remember,” he advised, “it’s always a good idea to include a set of hard-soled shoes in your tornado emergency kit, so if there’s damage, you can walk around without getting hurt.”
My husband responded, “Hmm, that’s a great idea.” He turned to look at me and said, “We should do that.”
I rolled my eyes.
“I got it covered,” I assured him.
“Really?” he said in surprise.
He sounded disbelieving of the high level of my emergency preparedness awesomeness.
Which, of course, got my dander up.
“Yes,” I snarked, “As soon as things get dicey, I start gathering stuff to take to the basement. Flashlights, shoes, water, food, our cell phones, my purse, our wedding album, the laptop, dog leash, our son and the pets.”
Then finally my husband said, “How did I not know that?”
I poked him in the stomach and said, “Because you are outside in the street watching the - and I quote - ‘wicked-looked skies,’ while I am inside covering our you-know-whats.”
Finally he reached over and placed a patronizing pat on my head and said, “Way to get after it.”
Tell me again why women don’t rule the world?
While vacuuming the house the other day (in order to maintain Domestic Goddess title at my advanced age), the “Family Feud” game show followed the morning news on the television.
I wasn’t paying much attention but, believe me, I perked up when I flipped off the vacuum to hear something to the effect of “Name something that rocks when a couple gets busy on it or in it.”
I was immediately struck by two thoughts....
One - Whoa, this is not your Richard Dawson “Family Feud,” my friends. Where have I been?
And two - I gotta watch this.
So I quickly shoved the forgotten vacuum out of the way and plopped down on the couch. It’s OK. This is what Domestic Goddesses do when no one is looking.
The easy answers came first (car, boat and swing).
Obviously these contestants had been around the block a time or two. And it must be beyond disturbing to hear your grandma - on national television - suggest two people get it on in a swing.
Let the nightmares begin, my friend. If you win the final round, you may be able to afford the therapy you will undoubtedly need in the near future.
It was at that point my husband made an appearance in the room, and I quickly filled him in on the situation.
“There is one answer left,” I chuckled, pointing at the television screen. “Have any guesses?”
He stopped in his tracks, stunned into silence. Then he smiled as an idea hit him and he hollered, “Diving board!”
Uh, say what?
And before I could question him about that questionable answer, he followed up with, “No, wait. How about a lawn mower?!”
Suddenly, I am terrified.
However, in his defense, I’m not sure what shocked me more: his answers or the fact I correctly guessed the final one.
So...two guesses what I get for my next birthday....