A man was sorting through our neighbor’s recycling bin and glass bottles. He said he was her brother and was doing this for her. “If it were easy,” he added, “women and children would be doing it.”
And then I had to pick up the pieces of my skull off the pavement because my brain had just exploded. Once I patted the pieces of bone shard and pink matter back into a lumpy mound that resembled my head shape, I had to walk away before I unleashed on this guy. Maybe he caught me on an off-moment with something so stupid.
If a job is easy, I would do it myself because my kids are useless. How hard is it to fetch mommy the remote and yet why am I yelling, “It’s over there!!! Say ‘what’ again kid, say it!”
While I ate this plate of crab in the privacy of my home (the caption explains why I never eat crab in restaurants, it’s too intense for me), I called out to Mike to come upstairs and turn the channel to the Olympics coverage and he answered why I couldn’t do it myself and I was like duhhh, my hands are full of crab and TJ’s the only kid around me. He’s not helpful at all, all he wants is for me to feed him the biggest pieces to which he announces, “Mommy! I love crab!”
If a job is easy, your life partner should be able to do it, even if it means leaving Facebook for a second, walking up a flight of stairs and passing the lady of the house and her children, who are all too busy scavenging crab legs, they barely look up and you don’t even ask for a bite because you know they do not share.
