Monday, February 10, 2014

Changing Times

Before I begin, if you don't like foul language, this weeks post may not be for you.  However, if you like curse words used within the context of describing what are person's not good at and why; stick around cause I'm ready to lay some shit down for your benefit.

Becoming a caretaker, husband, and step-father all within two years has been quite the departure from single man hood.  I went from a small two bedroom apartment in which I was surrounded by nothing but man things; i.e. pint glasses with beer manufactures printed on them, pictures of athletes on the walls, dishes enough for a couple of people, camo hanging in the closet next to my suits, to now living in a fully functional house complete with family pictures on the walls, a youth hockey schedule on the fridge next to graded papers, and whole range of glasses that have no alcohol affiliation on them.  The four wheel drive pickup truck I drove everyday has been replaced with an SUV (still have the truck, just not the money to make the necessary repairs).  And obviously the 'do what I want when I want' mentality has been replaced with, 'what's on the agenda today'.  And you know what, I wouldn't go back to those other days in a second.  I love my life.  However, what I've found is that I'm much better at some things in this new life than others...

Like most people, I have my strengths and weaknesses.  I'm not going to get into my strengths here because well, it's boring to listen to people talk about what they're good at.  What's not boring, is to listen to someone talk about and describe what they suck at!  Be honest with yourself, you know you've laughed when listening to someone going into detail about situations that were an absolute disaster.  So what are my weaknesses in my new life.  First off cleaning.  I fucking suck at it.  Most of the time the house looks like a god damn bomb went off.  There is almost always dirty laundry stacked in front of the washing machine and clean laundry in baskets in the living and bedrooms.  It's gotten to the point I've thought about doing the laundry nude just so I can know what it's like to have every piece of clothing in the house clean, folded, and put away.  Well maybe I'll wear a tie if I ever do.  I could feel a little more professional that way...But I digress.  It's the same thing with the dishes.  We have a relatively small kitchen and more than one occasion I've planned dinner around the fact there were simply too many dishes to do in order to cook a proper meal.  Yes, I just said that.  But when it's 6pm and you know it'll take you an hour to wash all the dishes because you're slower than molasses going up hill on a cold day doing them and the dishwasher works so well it takes two fucking hours to complete a cycle, other arrangements become kinda necessary.  And yes, the idea of simply having the dog clean every plate for me has, in-fact, cross my mind on more than one occasion.

We live in an old style log cabin so everything is always covered in dust and spiderwebs.  There's dog hair on the floor from the 80 lb Shepard running around, and a couple piles of shit that we don't want or need anymore in different corners of the house.  Marilyn's pottery studio has moved from just being on the porch to taking up a large area of the hallway and area next to the kitchen.  And clutter, holy fuck me running do we have clutter!  It's like a clutter bomb went off in this sum bitch and every time I clean it up and reorganize something new takes it's place quickly after.  I'm not even sure where have the shit comes from.  I don't buy anything to speak of and yet, shit appears out of the blue.  I swear sometimes ghosts are running around this place just dropping shit they find in other houses they're haunting just to mind fuck me.  But these all pale in comparison to my true nemesis...the thing that drives me more insane than anything....COOKING!

I HATE, HATE, HATE COOKING!!.  I hate cooking more than the New York Yankees.  As an avid Red Sox fan that's saying something.  The question, "what are we having for dinner" makes me want to insert ski poles into my ears and have someone take a damn hammer to each of them to insure they don't come back out.  Of all the things I ever did to my mother growing up, uttering those words are the ones I'm most regretful for because I now understand how intensely insane the question can drive a person.  How the holy hell my grandmother put up with my grandfather asking it for 50 years is beyond me.  I praise the lord (well I would if I was religious) that she didn't kill him in a fit of insanity one afternoon after he asked it.  It's not the fact that I'm a bad cook because I'm actually not, it's the act of cooking itself I don't like.  Perhaps it's a patience thing.  Just standing there waiting for things to get to the point where you remove, flip, ect.  But there's something.  Quite honestly, it's likely one of the reasons why I have trouble eating enough (apparently in order to lose weight it's recommend that you eat if you're an active person.  I understand the basic principles but if you want more detail I'll leave you to google for that), I simply don't want to cook anymore than I have to.  Now, before you get all freaked out, life is full of things that we must do that we don't enjoy, so yes I do cook and I cook mostly from scratch.  There's a few nights here and there that pre-made food; chicken fingers, fries, ect, end up on the menu but it's not very often.  I don't want that shit entering my body so I obviously don't want to feed it to my family for the most part either.

So there you have it.  A 6'+ tall, 275 lb bearded male who prefers to be outdoors participating in sports and working with his hands doesn't enjoy doing housework everyday.  Kind of shocking isn't it?  Regardless, we do the best we can around here and make sure that the home is safe and everyone is well fed.  I'm certainly no Martha Stewart or Mr. Belvedere but I suppose it could be worse.  I look forward to winter being gone and being able to sit out on the porch with some steaks on the grill and a cold beer in my hand.  That's some cooking I don't mind.  Until that time however, I'll continue to plug away at projects that never end and wonder how the hell the woman in my life have done it all these years without putting me in the hospital or in the ground.  My only guess, even if being a homemaker isn't my strong suit I must be good for something!   

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