A couple of weeks ago, I took a furlough day. What did I do with this wonderful day? I picked weeds.
(Note: Apparently, the NOT IT rule doesn’t work on weed picking. I want to see that fine print, Hubby.)
I used to think it would be amazing to live in the desert because of the lack of lawn maintenance, especially after moving from CT, where we had a yard the size of a medium jungle. Which was OH SO MUCH fun to maintain. So, once we got out West, I had a new-found passion for rocks. You know good ol’ rocks. You don’t have to mow them, you don’t have to clean them, you don’t have to maintain them. They simply just sit there and look pretty, so I thought.
BOY WAS I WRONG. How, you ask?
An infestation of weeds. We are not talking little, tiny weeds we are talking BIG, GYNORMOUS, HUGE Tree weeds. And not only are they HUGE, but their roots and stalks are the width of a paper towel roll. WHA?
Moral of Story: I HATE rocks. They are evil, they are NOT easy to maintain, and I guess I am just not cut out for yard work. AND I am lazy.
I was reading my Bloggy twin’s blog and it is just so weird how alike we are. I mean we even use the exact.same.language AND we live in different countries. How weird is that? So check her out, she is pretty cool, kinda like myself!
Hubby: Do the dishes.
Me: That’s a boy’s job!
Hubby: Take out the trash.
Me: That’s a boy’s job.
Hubby: Clean the bathrooms.
Me: That’s a boy’s job!
Hubby: Come outside and pick the weeds with me.
Me: That’s a boy’s job!
Hubby: FINE, what exactly isn’ t a boy’s job?
Me: Ummmm hmmmmmm. Yea, I can’t think of anything.
SO, the parents were visiting last weekend. And I was explaining the NOT IT rules to them, which made them laugh. Actually, Hubby and I were having a standoff in regards to the vomit by our bed. See why.
After explaining the rule, while we all watched Hubby clean up the vomit, I learned of the way my parentals dealt with the NOT IT rule way back when (yea, they are old school); it’s weird that they were that clever back in the day.
Dad (talking to Hubby): Ugh I know all to well what it is like to clean up cat puke.
Mom (under her breath): pshaw.
Dad: Yea, I usually had your mom clean up the vomit because I don’t know how.
Me: HA HA HA HA! What do you mean?
Dad: Well, your mother knows what special products to use on the carpet so it wouldn’t stain. I didn’t. So, it was better that she do it.
Me: 1. I don’t believe that and 2. I am going to use that now too!
Hubby: Don’t give her ANY more ideas!
And that, dear readers, is NOT it old school style.
Lesson of the day: Never underestimate me because I am THAT good.
I have just gotten out of bed, despite the fact that the pets have been at me for hours trying to wake me up to feed them—-banging my head, meowing, doing my hair, pawing at the blinds, whining, crying, vomiting, you name it they did it. But, I have not moved, not even flinched in fear of them seeing any sign of movement. It is better they think I am still asleep, so they can move on to torment someone ELSE.
Eventually, Hubby finally gets his sorry you know what out of bed to feed them, after I literally push him out of bed. I mean, it is ME who feeds them all week long, it won’t kill him to do weekend detail.
After he comes back to bed, and I get up, he sidesteps the vomit and snidely says:
I am so excited for you to come home tomorrow. I have missed you so! The NOT IT rule is no fun when you are not here to scream it to. You are therefore, banned from leaving me alone from here on! Here are the things I won’t miss:
*Feeding the pets in the morning (they are evil)
*No one to talk too, besides the pets (all they care about is food…after that, they want nothing to do with me)
*Taking the trash out (that is a boy’s job)
*Making dinners (let’s just face it, I suck)
*Having no one to boss around (Rae doesn’t listen….EVER)
*Sharing the bed with the pets (they are bed hogs, especially Patches)
*Having to clean up cat vomit myself, rather than calling NOT IT (NOT FUN)
*Lack of bedtime conversations where I make fun of you (leaves a void)
*Your advice, even though I never listen (in my defense, I am deaf sometimes)
*And mostly, no one to kiss me goodnight and tell me they love me (even when I am mean and don’t deserve it)
I promise not to take you for granted anymore…ok, well maybe not for one week…gotta have realistic goals here!
I tried cooking dinner tonight: tacos. They were remotely successful, but I had no idea how much work it is to cook! Plus, there is no one here to torment and Rae is not nearly fun enough to boss around, plus half the time she doesn’t listen.
Hubby, I miss you. Please come home soon (with both your arms, please) and cook me dinners again. Plus, the NOT IT rule (The Rules) is no fun by myself because I never win!
We all were sitting around talking when I smelled it….sniff, sniff….the foul smell of dirty cat litter came wafting through my nose. YUCK. I can’t explain it, but there is something about this smell that just makes me want to gag. And I have smelled a lot of foul smells (namely the ones that come out of the bathroom after Hubby has been in there—but that is another blog), but nothing compares to dirty cat litter. We have two cats and a really cool Kitty Hut, which Hubby built for the cats with a ledge for them to step on ( see pic below).So, usually the smells are enclosed. But the other night….whooo the smell was bad.
Me (screaming excitedly): NOT IT! NOT IT! NOT IT!
Hubby: What are you even talking about? You are crazy!
Me: The cat litter, I don’t want to clean it…you have too! I said NOT it…you know, it is in the rules! Remember, last one to call it has to clean up? (I shouldn’t have to remind him…he knows THE RULES).
Obviously, Hubby and I need to go back to the marriage contract, where I can SHOW him…he will need to re-read the fine print and the NOT IT RULE. There are no surprises, he knows the rules, I mean geez we have been married for a long time now…he was just jealous that he didn’t remember to proclaim them first! Rules are rules—and I am sticking to them. NOT IT, Hubby! NOT IT, NOT IT, NOT IT!