My husband is an oil burner mechanic. He is highly dedicated to his craft. He is so dedicated that when our furnace started blowing black soot onto into our living areas last week he went down into our scary crawl space of a basement at midnight to fix the problem.
I, on the other hand, am not as dedicated to my craft as a housewife.
I most certainly did not leave the soot on my walls for a week and draw cheesy hearts in it on the bathroom wall. No, not I.
I most certainly did not also draw hearts on the living room wall and the top of the shower stall as well. No, not I?
I most certainly did not start cleaning the wall in Liam’s bed room, look at it and get totally discouraged and decide to take a picture of the mess instead. No, not I?
I am most certainly not dreading having to actually get my act together to get the walls cleaned down today. No, not I.
Oh, yes, I most certainly did not let my kids leave the house looking like someone from Oliver Twist. No, not I.
I as a perfect housewife took care of it immediately while my husband was fixing the furnace so my family could have a nice clean home, right?