"You know that's twice that you've mentioned on your blog that you were ironing my shirt," says Chris last evening. "People out there are going to think that I'm some kind of Neanderthal. 'Woman! Go iron my shirt!!'"
"I'm sorry. I'll make sure to clarify on the blog about the ironing."
"No, no. That's OK."
So, even though my Neanderthal husband says I don't have to...I'm clarifying about the ironing.
I like to iron.
And this is pretty much the only household/domestic chore that I enjoy.
So, while Chris (who, I might add is pretty much the farthest thing ever from Neanderthal...) makes our lunches, I iron his shirts and pants. Actually, I'm pretty sure that I come out with the better end of the deal.
"'Woman! Iron my shirt!' kind of reminds me," I continue, "of that Bloom County strip from a million years ago. The old guy guy who's the leader of some really conservative fundamentalist group..."
""Oh yeah. I think it was like the Bloom County Moral Majority."
"Exactly! Yeah, that was it! And he comes home yelling, 'Wife! Make me my dinner!' and then in the last panel you see him holding a TV dinner while wearing a frilly apron and reading the instructions aloud, 'Fold back foil to reveal tater tots.' I love that strip!"
We laugh again.
It feels good to laugh.