This week we had some other couples over to watch one of the world series games. Of course this included dinner, dessert, and snacks to graze on during the game. Well, the game wasn't going so well (Can you tell we are Rockies fans?), and I knew that all these other women would be hurrying for the exit as soon as the game was over to get their cranky and disappointed husbands home. I wasn't too keen on being left with all the mess to clean up, but that was kind of the arrangement we all had. Better to get them separated and calmed down before they really worked themselves up into a frenzy. I was mulling over my options during the 7th inning stretch, when an erectile dysfunction drug commercial came on. That kind of an ad tends to cause an uncomfortable silence, and it was then that I knew what I had to do. I glanced at my husband, hoping he would forgive me, and not sure how he would take what I was about to do. When they got to the part in the commercial where they talk about going to the hospital if you have an erection that lasts more than 4 hours, there were the usual uncomfortable giggles. I swallowed hard and blurted out, "What? I thought they always lasted more than four hours!?" I acted totally serious, and my husband said, "Shhh, honey I will talk to you about it later."
Well, those women just gasped. One of them said, "You look tired, let us clean up for you dear." And that was that. Before the ninth inning had started the dishes were done, the floor was swept, and the garbage was taken out. It didn't seem to improve the mood of any of the other men except my husband, though. They were still cranky when they went home.
My husband didn't mention it, until we were walking up the stairs and all he said was, "You know, I would have helped you with the dishes if you would have asked." And I said, "You know, if you ever need that stuff and it ever does last for more than 4 hours, I am the one who will need to go to the emergency room. But at least I know I have friends who will come over and help with the housework."
Well, those women just gasped. One of them said, "You look tired, let us clean up for you dear." And that was that. Before the ninth inning had started the dishes were done, the floor was swept, and the garbage was taken out. It didn't seem to improve the mood of any of the other men except my husband, though. They were still cranky when they went home.
My husband didn't mention it, until we were walking up the stairs and all he said was, "You know, I would have helped you with the dishes if you would have asked." And I said, "You know, if you ever need that stuff and it ever does last for more than 4 hours, I am the one who will need to go to the emergency room. But at least I know I have friends who will come over and help with the housework."
1 comment:
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