This is a Test

Today is a test, and not of the emergency broadcast sort.  But believe me, if the person being tested doesn't succeed, there will be an emergency -- for him. 

There are about 12 weeks out of the year when I cannot stand being married or being a mother.  Awful to say I realize, but it's true.  This is one of those weeks.  (And really, there are probably more than 12 weeks, but for me to outright admit that would not be kosher.)  And I have to wonder whether my forgetting to put on my wedding band this morning was some sort of Freudian slip.

Between getting Christmas cards addressing me as "Mrs. 'Dave's Last Name'," (DAMN is that ever a pet peeve of mine!) the kids being out of school, and the mess that happens in a house with too many new toys, messy children and too small of a home...

I'm fit to be tied.

I am left with little patience to deal with stupid men.  And the fact that I am now returned to corporate America and surrounded by other strong women who are not shy about describing their husband's or partner's (or ex's) idiotic behaviors only feeds my willingness to identify Dave's behaviors as unbearable.  The only person not bitching with us right now is the woman in a same-sex marriage -- and I'm beginning to think there really is something to be said for being a lesbian and I am considering the option fully.  Really.  I am not against same-sex marriage for others, or myself.

This week, I want to know why someone who tests above normal on I.Q. tests:

• Flushes a toilet that overflows -- not once, but twice! -- and doesn't preventively turn off the water.  Really?  And for one of those times, leaves it for me to clean up because he is late for work -- again -- because he slept in -- again -- and lord forbid he help with ANY of the morning routine -- again.

• Calls me at work when the plumber doesn't show up.  I realize I am on the crisis team, but for heaven's fucking sake, figure this issue out on your own.

• Leaves me to deal with a group of male plumbers (Lord save us all) who: lack problem solving skills when they are locked out of my home (it's called, call my cell phone, which I told them to do in the first place), bitch at me before I am not even awake the next morning for a wasted trip (again NOT MY FAULT ASSHOLE -- it's called follow directions) and THEN cannot figure out what is wrong with the toilet and ask ME if what is happening looks normal.

• Nearly blows out his engine on his car by driving it with only two drops of oil in the car after not taking care to get an oil change done for 10,000 miles.

• Tells me he "doesn't care" where he is supposed to put toys after I spent from 9AM to 1AM cleaning and re-organizing the post-Christmas mess WHILE HAVING 3 SMALL CHILDREN UNDERFOOT -- and getting them out of the way is like hearding cats into a mother-effing river.

ah hem.


Mama always told me those "talented and gifted kids might be smart but in everyday life they are stupid."  Cheers and amen to that one.

When I get home tonight,  if the long ago broken light switch that operates the light above our kitchen table so we can see the food we eat for dinner that I so lovingly home cook each and every frickin night (or morning on the days I work) is not fixed when I get home and the water filter is still blinking red at me when I turn the faucet on...he will have failed the test...and the little light on the faucet won't be the only thing blinking red.

That is not a threat.  It's more of a promise...a premeditated plan with intent...a reason for the criminal lawyer I know to be on-call for me tonight...call it whatever you want on this twelfth and final week of 2011.  Happy New Year.