Thursday, January 19, 2012

Domestic Dimwit

There are days I thank God I'm not Martha Stewart's child... she would disown my ass. Yes Mom, I know you tried to teach my how to be domestic those many years before I moved away, but I was a resistant little turd and didn't listen. I've attempted to do better at this whole freak show that comes with being a housewife/homeowner, but some days.......... well shit. I flat out fail. Especially with the following areas:

FITTED SHEETS: The one and only time I ever adopt the Clay folding method... roll roll roll rolllllll. Who the hell knows how to fold these linens of doom?! My sheets just may suffer the same fate as my sweatpants. One snip of the elastic and all my problems are solved.

LAUNDRY TREASURES: Ever since my husband took up hoarding pens from work and one decided to explode in my dryer full of clean laundry, I'm VERY careful to empty each and every pocket on laundry day. BUT... no matter how hard I try, a key FOB is in the bottom of the dryer, chapstick melted to the inside of a pocket or tissue pieces stuck to everything. I'm pretty convinced there's a hamper gnome that keeps sticking random crap back in the pockets I just checked.

GARBAGE BAGS: After I empty the garbages, putting a new bag back in rarely gets done. So the real question is, am I really that lazy or is it....... um....... I've got nothin'. Guess it's just laziness.

NOODLE OVERLOAD: Does anyone else fail miserably at measuring out noodles?! Yeah, thanks recipes that call for "one box" of noodles... works great when I have a hodge podge of canisters full of unknown noodle quantities. In fear of never having enough, I always cook up like 3X more noodles than necessary. Is there a secret trick that Home Ec failed to teach me those many years ago?

TUPPERWARE MAYHEM: Why is it that I can't ever pick out the right tupperware for the appropriate amount of leftovers? It's either waaaaay to big for the dab I have left or I try to cram it all in a teeny tiny dish and it ends up spilling out the top. Good Lord Andrea.

COLD IN THE MIDDLE: Confession: I eat Ravioli straight from the can. Yes, grab the can opener, stick a fork in it, instant meal. Yes, it looks and smells like dog food, but it just goes to show you that I don't really care if things are heated up all the way (or at all). Clay, on the other hand, does not like food that it nuked only half-assed. Unfortunately, I'm notorious for bringing food to the table that is lava-hot on the outsides and still a block of ice in the middle. Even when I taste test the middle, I fail.

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