Freedom From Abomination
The other day a fellow asked me what I did in retirement and I told him "Whatever I $%#$@$ well please!"
Well, maybe that was a little premature as it turns out. The CFO was here last weekend and noticed right away that I had not cleaned the house since she was last here. And, the refrigerator she described as ... what was the word? ... abominable. An abominable snowman I've heard about but an abominable refrigerator?
abominable: adj. 1. vile. 2. very bad. [< L. abominari, regarded as an ill omen.]
Hmmm. I didn't think the thing was that bad, really. I just cleaned it out at Christmas. The Christmas just past, last December. I can still identify every single thing in there.
Still, the CFO sez I've got to clean the house (including the refrigerator) and chase the mice from the beds in the guest rooms before The Donald arrives today. That's easy enough for her to say. She and The Donald's wife are off on a golf trip to Southport with a bunch of ladies for the rest of the week, leaving The Donald and me to fend for ourselves. That's just not right.
And, I just cleaned the townhouse from top to bottom ... spic and span, really ... before I came to the mountain.
Just who does she think she is? Us househusbands have our limits. Cooking meals. Taking care of the kids. (OK, in this case taking care of Suzy Q and Sam.) Washing dishes. Cleaning house. Doing the laundry. Folding the towels. Ironing sheets and underwear. Shopping for groceries. Running errands.
Househusbands of America, I say UNITE AGAINST TYRANNY!
In college you slept on the same sheets until you went home to visit Mom, didn't you? Have you ever seen any statistics that sez bachelors are more likely to die from refrigerator poisoning? Are you legally licensed to operate an iron? Vacuum cleaner?
Hey, it's just the guys. Relax! Sit back and smoke a cigar. Read a good book. Contemplate the universe.
Maybe I'll wait to clean the house until just before the CFO comes next time.
Then again, The Donald might say something to his wife who might say something to the CFO, leaving me up the creek in a screen-bottomed boat with a spoon for a paddle.
Alright, already. I'll clean the #$@*($&^ refrigerator.
But I'm on record as thinking that doing so is an abomination.
A total waste of freedom, really.
Well, maybe that was a little premature as it turns out. The CFO was here last weekend and noticed right away that I had not cleaned the house since she was last here. And, the refrigerator she described as ... what was the word? ... abominable. An abominable snowman I've heard about but an abominable refrigerator?
abominable: adj. 1. vile. 2. very bad. [< L. abominari, regarded as an ill omen.]
Hmmm. I didn't think the thing was that bad, really. I just cleaned it out at Christmas. The Christmas just past, last December. I can still identify every single thing in there.
Still, the CFO sez I've got to clean the house (including the refrigerator) and chase the mice from the beds in the guest rooms before The Donald arrives today. That's easy enough for her to say. She and The Donald's wife are off on a golf trip to Southport with a bunch of ladies for the rest of the week, leaving The Donald and me to fend for ourselves. That's just not right.
And, I just cleaned the townhouse from top to bottom ... spic and span, really ... before I came to the mountain.
Just who does she think she is? Us househusbands have our limits. Cooking meals. Taking care of the kids. (OK, in this case taking care of Suzy Q and Sam.) Washing dishes. Cleaning house. Doing the laundry. Folding the towels. Ironing sheets and underwear. Shopping for groceries. Running errands.
Househusbands of America, I say UNITE AGAINST TYRANNY!
In college you slept on the same sheets until you went home to visit Mom, didn't you? Have you ever seen any statistics that sez bachelors are more likely to die from refrigerator poisoning? Are you legally licensed to operate an iron? Vacuum cleaner?
Hey, it's just the guys. Relax! Sit back and smoke a cigar. Read a good book. Contemplate the universe.
Maybe I'll wait to clean the house until just before the CFO comes next time.
Then again, The Donald might say something to his wife who might say something to the CFO, leaving me up the creek in a screen-bottomed boat with a spoon for a paddle.
Alright, already. I'll clean the #$@*($&^ refrigerator.
But I'm on record as thinking that doing so is an abomination.
A total waste of freedom, really.
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