Women

So the wife emails me at work and asks me to vacuum when I get home. I agree because it's my job (she does the laundry. Trust me, I've got the easier gig by far) and because a cat, a dog, 2 kids and 2 adults create a ton of dust and I haven't vacuumed for...a while...so the house needs to be vacuumed.

So I get home, clean up the dog's poop in the backyard (Trust me, I've still got the easier gig), then figure I'll chill for a bit and catch up on some blogs before I do the vacuuming. (I was gonna get to it... eventually.) But the wife wants me to do it now.

"Why aren't you vacuuming like you said you would?" she calls out to me from the boy's room. (They're in there doing something on his computer. Probably school-related. She's a good mother like that. I should probably tell her that sometimes. Does this count? No? I need to tell her in person? Okay, I will...after I finish the vacuuming ;)

"Yeah yeah," I say, with the Zenful serenity that comes from being married for longer than a decade, as I continue reading Blogs and finish typing (what I believe to be) a witty comment on some random Blogger's Blog.

Then the boy comes in. "Daddy, why aren't you vacuuming?"

Geez! Et tu, spawn of my loins?

Fine, I'll vacuum then! Wait! Doesn't vaccuum have two C's? I'm sure it does! I'm sure that's how I spelled it in school...in Australia. Bloody Americans. As if it's not enough to drop the U out of words like colour and neighbor and the D out of Refridgerator (And how come you add it in when you abbreviate it to Fridge, huh? If it's Refrigerator, shouldn't it be Frige?) you have to go and rob vaccuum of one of its C's. And you have the audacity to say Australia was founded by thieves and convicts? Bah!

Anyway, so I get out the vaccuum cleaner and start unrolling the cord when I remember the wife mentioned to me the other night that "they" are remaking Hawaii Five-O, which prompts me to start singing the Hawaii Five-O theme song. You know the one? (Or maybe you don't...) It goes like this:

Nag-nag nag-nag naaaag naaaaag.
Nag-nag nag-nag naaaaaaaaaag.
Nag-nag nag-nag nag-naaaaaag!
Nag-nag-nag-nag naaaaaaaaaag!

By this time I'm in the boy's room and he's joined in and is singing along with me so I lean over and give my wife a big, long, sloppy wet kiss on the cheek and when I'm done (it was a loooooong kiss) I say, "I love you, dear".

And what does she say in reply?

"Do the vacuuming."

Women.

Ah well. I guess I better get back to the vaccuuming.