My house is not a childproof house.  There is glass and metal at every turn.  There are breakable treasures all around and is not a very kid-friendly place.

It it also NOT husband-proof.  When I walk into the garage I often find broken platters, smashed plates and cracked bowls buried under an array of paraphernalia and other junk.  I think, “Who can possibly do this?” but I know it was my husband who hid the evidence.  This is a man who can break anything he puts his hands on.  Anything that he comes in contact with will perish under his supervision.

One day while vacuuming, he broke 8 wine glasses in one shot.  Eight.  Things go missing all the time and I often wonder if I misplaced them or they’ve been sent to an early grave.

Last night at 2:00 a.m. I was awaked not by fuzzy cat tail in my face (that was 4:30), but by an incessant, loud hacking and a never-ending banging of various noise-makers in the kitchen.  It drives me crazy.  This morning I tried to grab the plastic container of cookies that I bought at the Italian deli and low and behold they were open and spewed sugar and cookies all over my counter.  I even lost some in the kitchen sink.

If I buy Cheez-Its, they’re all over the couch and floor.  If it’s chocolate, it’s strewn throughout the house.  Frankly, I have trouble distinguishing between the melted chocolate and Bailey’s skid marks.  Ah yet another topic for my blog!

Anyhow, I try not to get mad but when I find crummy counters and coffee stains on my frosted glass end tables, I tend to get a little nuts.  Not as nuts as my driving, but crazy.

So whether it’s broken glass, a trail of eaten food, Hershey Highways or just an unclosed bag of bread or chips, my house and my life will never be man-proof – but would I want it any other way?

3 responses to “Husband-Proof


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