OOPS

I have the flu. My son has two ear canals that resemble a head of cauliflower and my daughter is coughing up more phlegm than Marlon Brando (before his death). I stayed home yesterday, feverish and feeling as if I got hit by a freight train, kids all happy that they were born, my cell phone ringing like crazy from people that want something, mostly a hose to put out financial firestorms and I had the AUDACITY to not put my son's clothes away. Shame on me.

This morning, I should have been able to guess where the conversation was going. The night previous, sweat beading from my forehead, my wife asked me what I did all day. It wasn't WHAT she said, but HOW she said it. As if two living children was not enough, a house that had not burned down to the ground, a clean kitchen, kids toys picked up off of the living room floor, etc. etc. I thought I did pretty well for being sick as a dog. Apparently not enough. My son was sitting on her lap. When you speak to an infant, they hear BLAH BLAH BLAH. My wife thinks they hear everything word for word. She says, "Jacob, Mommy has to clean the whole house before company comes Thursday, and finish the laundry that DID NOT GET DONE TODAY, but only after she works all day tomorrow" Of course, being the cynical bastard I am, say, "and when Mommy is done with that, she needs to paint the outside of the house, but you are too young to help, let alone understand the English language." I got up, and went upstairs to transfer the laundry from washer to dryer, grumbling the whole way.

So this morning, I am asleep. My wife had been up since 7:30, unable to sleep because she had "all this stuff to do" before Thursday. I don't know what the big deal was about Thursday anyway. It is dinner with her Dad, someone whom no one likes anyway. So what? We aren't aiming to impress anyone. Regardless, she was stressed. Fine. Why kill me about it? So this is when she said those terrible words...."you did not put Jacob's clothes away." She plops my son on my chest, him looking at me with a big smile, drool oozing onto my face like a miniature Saint Bernard. She reminds me how I failed to put away his wardrobe and I said, "I will do it tonight I guess. It isn't that much." She says, "but everytime I turn around there is one more thing for me to do." What? Still confused and slowly starting to wake up completely, I said "I will help you tonight, I promise." She rolls her eyes as if i wasn't getting the point. I got the point, OK? It wasn't done, but Jesus...move on. Oh no, she says, "You just wouldn't understand." Then I killed Kennedy all over again. "Are you on the rag?" She picked my son up and left. OOPS. I guess I didn't understand.

Never say that to your wife or girlfriend. The fact is, yes, she is on her hell week, PMS fully a blaze, but she didn't need reminding of that. She simply wanted me to say, I WILL BE YOUR DOMESTIC BITCH FOR THE NEXT 36 HOURS. But, I was half asleep. My brain was foggy. Sue me.