Stuff I don't wanna do..

I spend entirely way too much time doing stuff I don't wanna do. I like to kid myself that since I live here, on an island, hang out at the beach, have fun, irresponsible friends, that makes me hip, and cool, but the facts are, I still spend way too much time doing stuff I don't wanna do...

This week life got in the way of my life, meaning that I had to do alot of the stupid grown-up stuff, that made me feel irresponsible, selfish, dumb, and re-think the whole Peter Pan state in which I seem to dwell.

Sunday the Fab man went fishing, and came back with 3 tunas, my absolute favorite. When he arrived home, I immediately headed out for wasabi...in a torrential downpour. The Fabster, who is a reasonable adult, warned me about flooded streets, while I nodded vacantly and relentlessly carried on with my selfish mission. Did I mention that I had to walk my narcissistic self to Rita's house? to call for a ride? while clutching a sodden tube of wasabi?

That stupid little jaunt into arrested adolescence cost us $150 USD since apparently I didn’t get the amphibian option when I purchased the Mimi-mobile. Long suffering husband, again, just gazed at me plaintively as he shelled out the cash.

The washing machine, after years of mistreatment and faithful service on it’s part, also chose Monday to crap out. Trying to get someone to repair something here, is about as easy as milking a cat. It might be possible, however at the end of the day, the repair guy is pissed off, since the Fabster has gone to his shop 90 bazillion times and bothered him, the husband and I have already had a tiff about the associated frustration, and at the end of the day, we’re still drowning in dirty clothes. Today I’m calling a new guy, so the entire cycle can begin anew.

I’ve also got a new cleaning lady starting today. This, is, actually harder than dating, and I didn’t enjoy that and wasn’t very good at it either. I got the new maid from the Jehovah Witness Maid pimp, who’s the connection here on the island to good, reliable help. The Maid pimp is a necessary evil, since it’s really hard to find someone who won’t drink out your liquor cabinet, rob you blind, hit you up for a loan, or bring friends and family members for a visit while cleaning your house. Go ahead, laugh, I’m not exaggerating, I’ve had all of these things happen to me. I’ve also been forced to purchase Tupperware, Amway, and Avon. I’ve discovered broken keepsakes stuffed in sock drawers, mummified lizards under the sofa that the cat brought in, and even found a bottle of salad dressing mixed into the products in our bathroom.

The husband has been shockingly responsible. I have not. I’ve flown off the handle, yelled, screamed and made bad decisions, almost on an hourly basis. I really truly hate it, when he comes off as the mature, responsible one. Then, to make matters even worse, he indulgently pats me on the head, and claims he understands all the stress that that I’m under. Again, somewhere I don’t wanna bee, shew-vllle.