If you have a story to add to this blog, please send it to toomanybooks@gmail.com
We would like to post at least one story a week, but even the men in our lives aren't quite THAT frustrating.
Friday, June 3, 2011
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Why We're Here
Just last week, I was hard at work on a project. My desk happens to sit in the dining room of our house, which is usually not an issue as my husband spends much on his time on the road and my children -- even those who occasionally live in the house -- are basically all grown and can amuse themselves.
But my husband was involved in his own project that weekend, one which involved a bunch of men coming in from other cities. He was picking up a group of these men at the airport and intended to bring them back to the house to chat until their first activity started later that evening. Because I wanted to continue working on my own project, I baked some cookies, made some guacamole, and laid out various other snack-y type things on the counter next to our family room, which was conveniently located away from the dining room.
The men came in, smelled the cookies and even ate a few, but then settled down to talk in the dining room where I was working. They didn't even get the hint when I unplugged my computer and moved out of the dining room. And my husband didn't bother to move the food I had set out to the dining room so that his friends could partake of it. Instead, when the men went off to their activity, I was left with all kinds of food to put away.
In the midst of this, I texted a friend and told her all about it, concluding with "this is why women kill their husbands." She not only sympathized, she shared her own husband frustration-of-the-moment. And then my youngest son happened to text me and I explained that I was contemplating killing his father. My son's girlfriend, who happened to be with him, understood completely. And other women each of us talked to over the course of the weekend also agreed that there were times they felt like offing the men in their lives, be they husbands, fiancees, boyfriends, sons, brothers, co-workers, mere acquaintances, strangers on the street, and so on.
Through the marvels of modern technology (i.e., texting), we decided that what we-- and probably other women as well -- needed as an outlet for these homicidal urges was a forum for sharing these moments. Our theme song unquestionably has to be "Cell Block Tango" from the musical "Chicago."
Hah! He had it coming
He had it coming
He took a flower
In its prime
And then he used it
And he abused it
It was a murder
But not a crime!
But my husband was involved in his own project that weekend, one which involved a bunch of men coming in from other cities. He was picking up a group of these men at the airport and intended to bring them back to the house to chat until their first activity started later that evening. Because I wanted to continue working on my own project, I baked some cookies, made some guacamole, and laid out various other snack-y type things on the counter next to our family room, which was conveniently located away from the dining room.
The men came in, smelled the cookies and even ate a few, but then settled down to talk in the dining room where I was working. They didn't even get the hint when I unplugged my computer and moved out of the dining room. And my husband didn't bother to move the food I had set out to the dining room so that his friends could partake of it. Instead, when the men went off to their activity, I was left with all kinds of food to put away.
In the midst of this, I texted a friend and told her all about it, concluding with "this is why women kill their husbands." She not only sympathized, she shared her own husband frustration-of-the-moment. And then my youngest son happened to text me and I explained that I was contemplating killing his father. My son's girlfriend, who happened to be with him, understood completely. And other women each of us talked to over the course of the weekend also agreed that there were times they felt like offing the men in their lives, be they husbands, fiancees, boyfriends, sons, brothers, co-workers, mere acquaintances, strangers on the street, and so on.
Through the marvels of modern technology (i.e., texting), we decided that what we-- and probably other women as well -- needed as an outlet for these homicidal urges was a forum for sharing these moments. Our theme song unquestionably has to be "Cell Block Tango" from the musical "Chicago."
Hah! He had it coming
He had it coming
He took a flower
In its prime
And then he used it
And he abused it
It was a murder
But not a crime!
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