Wednesday, October 24, 2007

Waiting For My Hubby


I frantically run around our 300 square foot apartment every day about this time. I restore order to our home as my husband catches the 5:14pm train from work to Penn Station. I have less than 45 minutes to tidy up the joint, throw a delicious dinner together, and look like a hot babe who never broke a sweat in the process.

It only takes a few things out of place to make the apartment look like K-Mart during a blue light special. Leftover dishes from the night before, week old laundry piles, job applications scattered across the floor, makeup samples strewn on the countertop, DMV forms half completed, a half stirred pitcher of Crystal Light, and random items from the move that never found their niche. Whew. Amazing how everything gets strewn everywhere in eight short hours.

As for dinner, well, I consider myself a cleaner more than a cooker. I always attempt to concoct some sort of edible meal, or at least pretend to, when the lock turns and my husband’s smiling face materializes. I bang a few pans, turn the oven on to 350 degrees, and toss refrigerated items on the counter when I hear the front door of our brownstone slam and his footsteps approach.

Clean, cook, and look ridiculously fabulous – it’s the least I can do as a new and unemployed wife. The ‘new’ part of the sentence is great, but not so much the ‘unemployed’ part. Not how I planned to spend the first two months in NYC or my marriage, but... oh, well. It’s 6:00pm and I hear him as he fishes for his keys outside our door. I have only ten seconds to dwell on that thought because the hamburger patties are still frozen, my hair is still in curlers, and the bed never got made.

1 comment:

L Perkins said...

where the hell is the crash course entitled:

"whip up a delicious meal for new husband and look damn good doing it" 101...

i'm with you itty...i need help.