Friday, March 21, 2014


I used to be one of those over-achiever wives. You know the kind: they grow everything from scratch in their backyards to make dinner completely fresh, they clean the house and have all the clothes folded and raise the children all the while looking fabulous, they seem to have all the time in the world while somehow doing all this domestic work. Yeah, that was me circa 2008 through 2010. I was awesome. I painted a car. I taught crochet classes. I sewed cloth diapers for a living and raised my son while my husband worked. Well, let me just say that shit got old real fast. I have a lot of respect for women who can call domestication their occupation because frankly, I am not a domestic creature. I learned this the hard way.

I am my father's daughter. A girl who goes into manic frenzies of hobbies where I will engulf my life to something and dedicate my time to it. Guns. Running. Fishing. Cars. Wife-ing. Well, running and fishing are actually my two constants, or, the things I will always and forever do until I can't do them any longer. Due to too much time on the road and trails running, I got a reoccurring knee injury on my left knee and long story short, I need a project, so that's where the Satellite came in.

Tomorrow his engine and transmission comes home. A 383 big block and a 727 3-speed for those concerned with details. Unfortunately, we're not set up to put those in yet as there needs to be some work on the engine and where it will reside in the future. The solution: buy an engine stand. No biggie. Naturally, I wound up buying it on Wednesday night right before my last day of class. I thought since it's the last day, we would get out early. WRONG. By the time I got home, it was too late to build. Procrastinate to the night before the engine's homecoming. It's around 9:00PM. The engine is set to arrive in around 12 hours.

Back to the over-achieving wives and how I'm not one anymore. Remember how I used to be? Oddly enough, back in those days, I was furious with Jesse keeping his tools in our living room in the days we lived in a one-bedroom apartment. Our entire place was nothing more than a giant garage for random tools for cars and guns. I hated it. In fact, I loathed it. Now, nearly close to seven years later, I could care less. In fact, the roles have reversed. Jesse is the one constantly nagging me to pick up and clean. I have now created make-shift houses for my tools and even welcome his in the house. Jesse doesn't mind this so much, but he does hate that I have taken an apathetic approach to laundry, dishes, and housework in general.

So, tonight, after the family finished watching the new episode of ROADKILL, I was pretty much told that nothing would get done until I did my work. Begrudgingly, I obliged.

I was more than vocal about my hatred of laundry and dishes.

Ironically, those are the two chores that have machines to make the work easier, and yet somehow, they are the two things I hate more than anything else in the world.

This is my look of lack of amusement at putting away dishes. Complete and utter lack of concern on my part. If you are going to insist I do something I do not enjoy doing, don't expect me to be amused when you try to be funny.

After cleaning, I was able to put my engine stand together. I had instructions.

Didn't need them. One look and I could tell they were useless. Just match bolts with washers and nuts and throw it all together. Zang!

It even came with a cardboard beer caddy! OK, so maybe that's not what it's job was, but it sure was handy!

In the end, I managed to get everything, housework, assembly, beers, and then some, done before 11:00PM. All in all, it was a good day. The best day ever? Not really, but close enough. (On a side note: yes, I did draw a ROADKILL inspirational meme on my kitchen chalkboard that has been up since Episode 23. Because, ROADKILL.)

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