On Easter Sunday (see my fancy egg tree?) my man left for a week long work training class in Sacramento six hours away. That's five whole days plus ten hours of flying solo time. I am an only child raised by my single mom and I totally appreciate my alone time because that's what I'm used to, but being reminded about how hard it is to be a single parent is not my favorite thing. It's a lot of work for sure.
I know, I know, five and a half days is nothing. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Suck it up Daria. Dance and sing. Watch chick movies at night and wear my ugliest underwear and pajamas with unshaven legs. Personal empowerment. Freeeeedom!
So, a week ago, we get this new mattress. I'd like to say we felt compelled to contribute to the economic recovery, but, unfortunately, my man desperately needs a firmer mattress to help his ailing and aching back. The cost of a new mattress is far less than the profound cost of getting medically retired. Yikes.
We get our mattress from that particular Swedish store with funny names and questionable meatballs. The store that always seems to be out of the one item that you drove thirty minutes to look at and that took you two hours to finally decide on and another hour to navigate through to the end and then you find out they won't have it in stock for an eternity and you want to scream at the top of your lungs WTF is wrong with this humongous place, the biggest store in the city, how can you not have any Skortigs in stock?!
Or is it just me?
Anyway, we buy the very last king sized environmentally friendly and firm latex mattress in the style we want (whoo hooo yippee for us...victory!), only, well, the bed frame legs that we want are out of stock. Ha ha ha...of course. Hey, but great news, in only 3-5 days and another inconvenient trip all the way back to the store, they'll have plenty. Fantastic.
After checking online every day since, finally I see thirty-three in stock - the day after my man left. But, I can't take any chances that they will have a run on bed frame legs, so I quickly make the trek back to the store with my full of energy kids in tow and buy them. Once home, I grab the little yellow screwdriver, turn on Food Network for background noise, drag the what feels like four hundred pound mattress to the floor, flip over the two bed frames - totally confident that it's an easy ten minute job for this fully capable flying solo woman. Only, there are these eight metal corner pieces that need four screws each and they aren't easy to reach and the screwdriver is not doing the job and the $@%#!&! wrench thing that was included sucks and, and...where is my man!?
Once I get a grip, I decide it's time for a mighty manly power tool. I can do it. Oh yes, I can. Even though I had to clear the room of my impressionable young children because I could not be responsible for random outbursts of cursing, I would not be deterred. A ridiculous two hours of non-stop work (I know because listened to Paula Deen, Giada, Rachel, and the Neely's) and I successfully attach eight legs and I'm proud of myself. And exhausted. Totally spent.
I know I'm fully capable of such things and I prove it. After all, I take care of 98% of the daily needs around the house. I survived raising two baby twins! I'm not complaining or blaming anyone, it's just the truth. But, I can't do it all, and the 2% that I choose to not do I leave to my handy dandy manly man. So, when I am forced do the other 2% power tool/dirty/fix-it/muscle stuff and do a damn good job if I say so myself, it just confirms how much I can rock it...and how much I'd rather go shopping for the new linens and accessories instead. Just sayin'...