Last Thursday, I headed right from work to my kids’
lacrosse practice baseball practice strength training what the fuck ever sports thing I needed to be at.
The following day, I was traveling to Boston for a conference to give a presentation. Since I didn’t have time to do it myself on the way home from work, I had asked my husband to pick up the dry cleaning, so I would have some fancy duds to take with me. Because this is what happens when he is in charge of doing the laundry:
He begrudgingly agreed to pick up the dry cleaning. But not without letting me know (repeatedly) how much it was a pain in the ass for him to break away from his work-at-home job and how it was going to cut into his lunch hour. (Editor’s note: This from a guy who sets his iPhone alarm to wake him up five minutes before our oldest needs to leave for the bus to yell from our bed “Alex, time to leave for the bus!”, who repeats this when it’s time for the youngest to catch the bus, and who takes conference calls from the bed if they occur before 10:00am. By 10:00am, I’ve been up for over 4 hours and at my job actually working for over 2 hours. Just sayin’.)
I mean … what was I thinking asking him to go to the dry cleaner, when that was going to screw up
his afternoon nap attempts to get past level 307 on Candy Crush all the intense work he’d be trying to schedule into his day? Cuz the dry cleaner is so far out of his way. All the way across the street from our development. Hell, it might as well be the same distance as from our washer to our dryer.
And you’ve seen how that can turn out.