Time and time again, I need a reality check like I need my two front teeth knocked out of me. Living in the “all about me” mentality can really get ugly. Once in a while, if I’m lucky, I’ll catch myself committing one of the mortal sins: taking my husband for granted.
While we moved into our new house, Shane did most of the lifting, the transporting, the unpacking, the cleaning. Meanwhile, I assisted in the move, he did the bulk. I admit that I am a sofa spud, and I do things at the pace of a slug. I can’t help it. I was born that way. Shane is no couch superstar. On the contrary, he is, to say the least, a hard worker that gives his one hundred and ten percent. If I turn my selective hearing off, I can muster up his distaste for my sloth style. I, on the other hand, am not that appealing. I enjoy leaving each stone unturned. I embrace my disorder like it was my first born.
He has always supported my delusions I like to call extracurricular activities. After returning from hip-hop class, I walk into a home that is absolutely cozy clean. Shane, in his work ant mode, has been busy putting away the pantry goods, categorizing my wardrobe, breaking down boxes, sweeping, cleaning the counters. As I seek my daily cardio workout, he’s been at home making sure our house is a home. I am a piece of turd on a stick. I have sinned on the highest level of all sins. I am guilty of being a lazy lard.
I have to do something quick! This is just not cool. I will try my best to make his life easier and you know that I will have to struggle, but it is something that I must do to rid me of this guilt. I need to make my sweets happy with joy.
Lesson: Grasshopper must always wash, rinse, and repeat in order to achieve ripeness.
