I am on strike. Dinner has been provided; it was tasty. Children have been suitably entertained all afternoon and are now semi-appropriately occupied (2 children coloring: check. One child legos: check. Child making repeated thumping noises, followed again and again by by “ouch” from the playroom I am not so sure about, but hey, she’s not bothering me).

Dinner has not been cleaned up. The kitchen, likewise, is a horrendous mess. Atrocious. Apparently someone failed to clean it last night (damn those elves, I would fire them but they never show up). Bedtime is nigh, but no one has brushed teeth. No one is wearing pajamas. My husband is in the bedroom. He has walking pneumonia, which I secretly resent (I am lousy at keeping a secret), so he is off the hook, but I do not want to be on the hook. I hate the hook.

If I just got a big garbage back and threw all the stuff on the kitchen counter into it, do you think I would regret it? It seems like we have lots of plates and pans and stuff. Who would notice?

2 Responses to “Strike”

  1. Living simply! I’d like to toss out the entire contents of our basement. I can’t see a downside. I’m holding off just in case there is a downside, but I can’t see it.

  2. Kelly says:

    Ugh. I can understand the walking pneumonia, but you know if there roles were reversed a) you’d have to be up “mom-ing” and b) he wouldn’t care about the crap on the counters.