Graduation from Housekeeping Boot camp for Slugs

In final preparations for graduation from housekeeping boot camp, I made a list of the things I think the wife does in a day. I remembered everything from changing the dog bowl water twice a day to cleaning the dryer lint trap. I then added the tasks I realize she does weekly and monthly, which was a little harder as many of the things will not need to be done during her recuperation from the Favre-roid-ectomy on Monday--thankfully, I will not need to wash & wax the three cars by hand nor will I have to wash all the windows (inside and out). I was just about feeling pretty impressed with myself and ready to pat my back when.....

I've learned in the wife's little world there is always something else, something more. As we walked through the garage this morning, the wife pointed out that she sweeps out the garage "when it needs it." I asked for clarification, as I would think the garage floor would need to be swept once a year. Her answer? "When it needs it." I quickly remind her that it is ME she is talking to and that I need more specific direction than that. The wife indicates she sweeps the garage floor at least once a week in the winter--or, when it needs it. I inquired what makes a garage floor qualify for cleaning. I didn't get a very clear answer but I'm thinking it needs sweeping when the snow boogers falling off my car start piling up or when road salt starts to take over the cement.

As I am pondering the meaning of sweeping a garage floor in winter, I notice the wife is doing something else....she is off to fill the bird feeders in the back yard. IT NEVER ENDS! No, I didn't think the bird feeders were magically filled by the ornithologist ferry, but I didn't exactly think about how this event occurs. Put that on the list for next weekend.

Where's my list??!! I can't find my list! How can I pass my test if I can't find my list?!

I find my list (shoo!) and take a very serious look at it. I take a deep breath, trying not to hyperventilate and take another long look at the wife's household tasks. I realize that not only am I a slug but also that all this gobbly-gook written on my list is all Greek to me. It is so foreign I might need to order one of those Rosetta Stone language kits so I can truly figure out what all these tasks mean.

At this moment, the wife is busy running around doing as many tasks as she can do before Monday's surgery. She is doing the laundry--washing all the bedding and then washing all of the dogs' bedding--she is talking about giving the dogs baths (tomorrow I beg!), she has filled the snow blower with the "special gas" that it needs, she has organized the freezer with all the new food I purchased this morning, she is shaking out rugs and calling her mother and reading the Internet on how to heal after a Favre-roid-ectomy and she's researching brands of televisions and she's wrapping presents and she's paid her bills and.....

....and me? I'm sitting here writing this blog and I'm drinking my Dunkin' Donuts coffee and I haven't even showered yet.

There really is something wrong with this picture. Not only am I a bad, bad dog mama, I remain a slug. I reassure myself I have done an excellent job in housekeeping boot camp and that I am just saving up my last few bits of energy for when I must swoop into action but I am not sure this is entirely true.

I am savoring my last moments of slugdom, that's what I am doing.

The wife assures me I am doing great but she's just being nice. This is no time to be nice to me. My graduation has to be by Monday morning and I can't earn my stripes if I am not in top shape for this post Favre-roid-ectomy assignment.

Today, the wife will go once again and look for a little TV (she figures if she's stuck in the house she might as well have a new TV to enjoy), she'll make a casserole for when her mom is here after surgery, she'll badger me to bathe the dogs, she'll solve world crises and probably find world peace. My goal is to take a shower, answer email and study the master for one last time.

Maybe we can squeeze in a nap.

I don't know when I'll be writing next, so patience, dear blog reader. It may be Monday night, it might be a week from next Monday. I have no idea what to expect. I'm thinking I will be too busy & exhausted doing the wife's work and hanging out at the hospital, but you never know. You know I am a blogging whore.

As for now, we go through waves of great confidence followed by moments of sheer terror, but in the end we both know it will all be fine. We take Brett Favre's name in vain. I laugh about my failure to exercise for the entire week. We take another gander at my list. We take peeks at Freckle Warrior Princess' little ripped off dew claw. I'll Christmas shop for my staff and the wife will get that TV. And, in the infamous words of Addi Warrior Princess, "it's all good."

Because it really is. Garage floor swept or not.