Thursday, May 8, 2014

Schlepping with Love

I wonder what super women do when the shit hits the fan at their house? When I think of a super woman...

the vision of the professional woman (not a schlepper like myself)*
with the perfect nails, hair
clean car (schlepper just stuffs it under the seat)
clean house
perfect children
fabulous wife on a schedule...
prepares meals in a flash with entire healthy ingredients
okay, you get my point

*schlepper=self employed earning a decent income but not required to dress nice or comb my hair

Well let me tell you what a schlepper does when the shit hits the fan at her house.

  • I obsess on the carpet needing to be clean. No joke, the spot bot was busted out today and I found myself crawling around on the floor looking for any odors and or troublesome traffic areas.
  • Lunches are not packed, I search frantically for cash (who has cash on hand these days) to cover the cost of a bought lunch at school. Our school charges $3.00 for lunch. Aimee dreads using change like it's the plague. Graham crackers, watermelon, and a Little Debbie cake is probably not a well balanced meal to pack in my child's lunch box.
  • Grocery shopping...really why the hell doesn't anyone just deliver groceries? I need milk, eggs, bread, both wheat and white please. One pound of butter, potatoes, fresh fruit, and yogurt. Please grocery fairy hear my needs. I can't drag myself out to fetch the basic for an omelet these days.
  •  stuffing bowls of suspicious looking items deeper into the refrigerator to avoid actually having to lift the foil and determine what's lerking underneath.
I did manage to do a few loads of laundry today, work, clean the high road of the kitchen, dust, and mop the downstairs. The upstairs is another thing.

Mind you I am not normally a slob. I have lovely piles of cookbooks and small piles of this and that on a regular basis but, in general when the world isn't lopsided I'm fairly tidy.

Yes, my husband is sick. Mister is more important than anything the super woman might have on her list of things to do. She can have her stepford wife world of perfection and I will schleppe along with the best part of my everyday. My Mister.

I wonder if a super women still arrives with a perfectly pressed blouse and maintains a certain amount of dignity in these situations or does the shit hit the fan at her house too?




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