Add It To My List

Nothing feels funny this week. I just can’t quite get my comedic juices flowing. The last week has been unusual, and I get the feeling that I am going to have to get out of my comfort zone to make some tasks happen that I am not feeling energized or equipped to do. All these items are outside my usual “to do” list, and I resent all of them being assigned to me.

I am not a plumber. Why do plumbing tasks get passed to me on a regular basis? I don’t even like going to Home Depot unless it has to do with Christmas décor or patio items. The plumbing aisle? Oh the horror! I haven’t received a gift from my husband in a while, but last week he gifted me with a product called a Drain Snake or something like that. It seems a child, who will remain anonymous so SHE doesn’t get embarrassed, is mixing DIY face masks with honey and/or making “slime” from glue and liquid starch and rinsing them down the sink. The sink no longer functions and, as a bonus, it is backing up as well. Why call a plumber when you have a perfectly inexperienced and uninterested lady in your home who is not in need of one more task?

My first task was to “snake” the drain. (I am excited to have found a new verb.) This process did not work. My father then gave me a ten-minute explanation of how I could take the pipes apart under the sink and attempt to clean them out. Clearly he has too much faith in me. There is serious risk of flooding and costly damage with this assignment. I am thinking of having a video taken of my attempt. It has the potential to go viral.

I am not a veterinarian. I have loved dogs all my life, but, again, I feel I have certain limitations that are not being considered when tasks are assigned. My one hundred pound dog developed a large lump that I knew was a cyst based on past experiences with her. However, this is the Mt. Vesuvius of cysts. This one was out of my comfort zone and required the help of a professional. Much to my dismay, the vet made an attempt but was not able to lance it and came up with another solution. She suggested I put a warm compress on it three times a day and give it a squeeze once a day to see if I can take care of it. Excuse me? Have we met? You need me to do what?!

And so I took my sweet dog home and thought I might be able to get the help of someone else in the house who was less emotional about the task than I. No takers. When I explained what needed to be done to my husband, the only thing I got was a lecture on how much he always has and always will hate the word compress and that we should never use the word again. That talk did not make the cyst go away. The kids are not an option, as they continue to run from our sweet dog in horror. The vet shaved the entire area around her unfortunate malady, and it is not a pretty sight for anyone. As she sits at my feet, the cyst taunts me with its enormity as if to say, “So, are we going to do this or what?” Perhaps this can go viral as well. I know I’ve tired of Giraffe cam and the lack of action that team has provided over the last several months. The zoo promised the baby giraffe would arrive last weekend and still nothing. I do have a Go Pro I could attach to my dog’s head. Maybe I will start dog cyst cam and we can all celebrate the joyful end of it together.

Lastly, I am not a boy. I am not able to comprehend the thought process of a boy no matter how hard I try. I am creating a lecture for my son regarding common sense. I doubt all boys need this talk, but mine definitely does. This weekend I’m going to have to say ridiculous things like, “You shouldn’t throw basketballs at my car or your ceiling fan.” I also need to find the right words to express, “I know how much you liked the movie Sing. You cannot hose yourself and your friends down and pretend you are the car- washing koala while sliding all over your father’s car.” (Click here to watch the Car Wash Scene he performed on our car.) No digging giant holes in the flowerbeds will be another topic. I regret the amount of energy I must use to teach concepts that seem to be common sense to me. The phrase “Stop it!” is not detailed enough, apparently.

I look forward to these weekend tasks the way one looks forward to a flat tire or a two a.m. charley horse. If you see me in Home Depot this weekend wearing medical gloves and holding a confiscated basketball, you’ll know I am just working my way down my list.


*photo by


  1. My early love for Ron deepened when my sink backed up as I cooked dinner for him. He didn’t complain or hesitate. He asked for a bucket, scooped the water from the sink, poured it out in the back yard, emptied the cabinet under the sink, placed a pan to catch the rest of the water, unscrewed the pipe, cleared out the blockage, and put it all back together again.

    Swooning, showering him with affection, I began to realize this was the man for me.


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