
The other day I was cleaning out the bathtub drain, taking it all apart and running the snake down it, pulling out all the threads (where do they come from, anyway?) and other gross-me-outs, and then plunging the hell out of it until it finally decided to start draining again, while James was in the kitchen cooking dinner. At first I thought, "Why couldn't I have married a guy who does this 'handyman' stuff so that I don't have to gag over it?" Then I thought, "It's actually kind of funny that I'm in here doing this while he's out there making dinner." Then I realized, "I married exactly the kind of guy I wanted to so that I can just be myself and he can be himself and neither of us feels locked into specific gender roles."
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At a Habitat for Humanity build New Orleans, 2008 |
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Right now he's happily sweeping and mopping and dusting and scrubbing. And I'm trying to think of something handymanish that needs to be done so I can get out of housecleaning...
1 comment:
Amen, preach it, sistah!
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