Hubby Hatin'

There are some days in every married woman's life where she's going to hate her husband. Yes, Laura, it's true, eventually you'll wake up one morning and wonder why in the hell you married Doug. Don't worry, it'll pass and in a few days you'll be madly in love with him again.

Or maybe this is just my own unique situation, and I'm justifying it by thinking that the rest of the world must feel the same way?

So for the last two days Wil's been useless. Ok, more useless than usual. As a matter of fact, I put up with uselessness all week. It's one thing not to offer to do a load of laundry or vacuum the floors, but it's a totally different situation when your laziness makes my life even more difficult.

For instance: You're a man over the age of 30, you can find the laundry hamper. Your clothes don't belong behind the bathroom door. Nor do they belong in a pile in front of the washer. Nor do they belong on top of the washer. There's a neat little covered basket right next to the closet door. The lid is hinged for your convenience. Go ahead, give it a try. You can even pretend you're playing basketball, if that makes it more fun.

Your dishes don't belong on the dresser when you're done eating your midnight snack. There's a receptacle in the kitchen that's known as a "sink". Yes, that stainless steel thing with running water. Simply place dishes here, and if you think of it, maybe even run a little water over them so the leftover food doesn't turn into an impenetrable crust. Heck, earn brownie points. Put the dishes in the dishwasher. It's that thing that looks sort of like an oven located just to the right of the sink.

Oh, that's right, you're a man, you don't have a clue what an oven is. Nevermind, just put them in the sink.

When the baby waked up in the middle of the night, he is not very specific as to who is to trudge through the dark livingroom to the kitchen to retrieve his milk. You, too, can make this journey. And if you cannot, you could at least make sure that I have a clear path before you go to bed. Your shoes do not belong in the middle of the livingroom floor. There's a shoe rack in the closet. At the very least, tuck them under the desk or something. There's nothing more annoying, except maybe the jagged side of a leggo, to trip over in the middle of the night than a pair of poorly placed shoes.

And speaking of evenings. You could come home every now and then BEFORE your son goes to bed. He'd like to remember his father occasionally, and I promise, no matter what kind of mood he's in, he rarely bites. I sometimes wonder if you just really aren't interested in being his father at all, and it's getting harder and harder to make you sound like a wonderful father when I haven't seen you be one in almost a month. Don't give me the work bullshit. I work too, longer hours than you do. Either get up earlier in the morning and spend some time with him, or get your ass home in the evenings. I know your office closes at 6. There's no reason you can't come home before 10, even when I ask you stop at the store.

And stop giving me a guilt trip for going to the grocery store and buying groceries that we need. I never give you a hard time about the $20 you spend on a daily basis dining out. Yes, I know you ate $11 worth of taco bell last night. All that after telling me not to bother cooking, you weren't hungry. I'm not opposed to you eating whatever the hell you want, but if we're too broke for me to buy groceries, you sure as hell don't have any right to go out and blow a fifth of my weekly grocery budget on one (nutritionally void) meal.

I don't care if your knee aches, I don't care if you're tired. I've had a long day, too. I am on the go from the second my alarm goes off (at an hour you're completely unfamiliar with) until my head hits the pillow. It's probably my fault you're as incredibly lazy as your are. I'm sure I've babied you and done everything for you for so long that you've forgotten how to do them for yourself, but I seem to be preoccupied with my (and I call him mine because I can't seem to justify sharing ownership with a disinterested parent)son.

So get off your lazy ass and start doing something around here. At least show me that you're making an effort and maybe my shoulder will thaw just a little.