Truth be told, I can really get annoyed at blonde jokes (or blond jokes – you’ll find that I use these spellings interchangeably, just like on dictonary.com.) Anyway, most of the time I cringe when my inbox spews out a particularly inflammatory idiom against women with my hair color of choice. I mean, I’m NOT DUMB!! and believe me, I know plenty of brunettes who fit the profile a lot better than I. BUT, I sure do have my moments… in fact, I chose the “Blondemonium” title for my blog to take a swipe at laughing at myself and learning to go with the flow that so often accompanies the craziness of life in general.
Tonight, I became the blonde joke. Whilst fixing a lovely dinner of bacon-wrapped filet for my mister, I found a bag of old lettuce in the frig that needed to be disposed of. So, instead of just dropping it in the trash like I usually do, I decided to do the environmentally friendly thing and re-use the bag. So, guess where the lettuce went? Yup – right down that old sink with the garbage disposal running full speed ahead. Apparently, in my haste to dispose of the offending lettuce, I smooshed it down the drain too quickly and things got ugly from there. Now, picture this: I have a very large kitchen sink set-up with two large sinks on each side and a smaller, higher one in the middle where the disposal is located. To my horror, water filled with green chunks started backing up in ALL THREE SINKS!! Yikes! Knowing that my mister was due home any minute and expecting at least a decent dinner, if not a nice one, I tried everything. I kept the disposal running in hopes that somehow the green mess would miraculously dissipate on its own. I got the toilet plunger from the garage and plunged each sink drain like I was drilling for enough oil to keep the kids in college. I even bailed water from the sinks and into a bucket — all to no avail. So, with my head down and feeling blonder than usual, I met my mister in the garage and exclaimed, “I screwed up again!” His initial reaction, “I screwed up? How?” made me smile and calm down a bit — “no – not you, ME. I clogged up the sink… I’m so sorry.” With a grumble, he came in to survey the damage. Knowing what was coming (yes, I have done this before) (sigh), I had removed everything from under the sink and fetched the towels we would need to clean up the mess. Wouldn’t you know? Just when I was all down on myself and feeling insecure about how stupid I can be sometimes, my mister came through for me, assuring me that “it’s ok,” and calmly reminding me to just put the stuff in S-L-O-W-E-R next time…. How sweet is that? I mean, for the life of me I can’t figure out why something that causes him a fair amount of work to fix gets him all cute and patient-like, when other times he can get all pinchy-faced if I leave a few pieces of mail in the wrong place. And they say women are impossible to understand! (I’m thinkin’ it’s a tie)…
Of course, in all the confusion, I slightly overcooked the filet mignon and promised, promised, promised myself and my man that I would not do this EVER again.
Just like I did the last time.