Ordained Domestic House Goddess My Ass

So. I woke up this morning (5:30 a.m.), popped in a load of wash, wandered to the kitchen, started the coffee, and began making the kids' breakfast. Quesedillas--modified to only tortillas and cheese as I can't get my hands on any chile peppers here bouts. Breakfast served, I went back into the kitchen to make some wholegrain blueberry muffins (hoping some will survive the weekend for breakfasts during the week) and continued periodically extracting wet laundry and hanging it up while stuffing yet more dirty laundry into the machine.

Masa was busy sleeping.

After load number three I took a quick trip throughout the house and successfully found enough hidden dirty socks, shorts, and shirts wadded up and pushed under furniture etc. to do yet another load of laundry.

Masa by now had awoken and was at the computer checking his email. And the New York Yankees' baseball scores.

Why is there so much dirty laundry in my house? I do laundry EVERY SINGLE day and still I have these horrid days of 4-5 loads of laundry to do. Of course on Saturday I have all the weekly school things (P.E. uniforms, bags, etc.) to wash. Sigh.

My kids are only enthusiastic about pouring the washing liquid into the machine and after that they loose absolutely all interest in having anything to do with the laundry.

At 9:30 a.m. I decided to take a shower and get ready for driving school.

When I left Masa was still at the computer, working away as only a workaholic on a Saturday can.

I made it to my 10:10 appointment for practical driving practice and the instructor today told me the exact opposite of the instructor I had on Thursday on several issues. Issue number one: where one's hands should go on the steering wheel when making a turn. Issue number two: how fast one is allowed to drive on the on-site driving course. I had fun speeding around on Thursday. Today's guy had me driving slower than a tortoise on top of which has been placed a 500kilogram weight.

How that sort of driving is supposed to prepare me for the real world is beyond me, unless he's thinking I'm gonna move back to Osaka: city of the everlasting traffic jam. The fact that he was treating me like a moron didn't go over so well with me either. I'm 42 and I drove from the age of 16-31 in the U.S. I am not a first time driver. He kept telling me in this god-awful condescending know-it-all-tone that "you are a first time driver in Japan so you have MUCH to learn."

I did a good job of not showing my irritation with Yoda at all though. I'm focused on one thing and one thing only--getting my drivers license. I'll put up with nearly anything for that!

On the way back home, I stopped off to do some shopping for lunch. Got home, made somen with sliced up cucumbers and ham on top. Chilled tofu with natto (mixed with a crushed umeboshi) on top. Added some thinly sliced shiso leaves on top of the natto tofu. Then I started to make dinner.

Masa ate lunch and then got ready to go out on a jog. Although a delightful variety program on T.V. caught his attention and delayed him by an hour.

Dinner was (will be, we haven't eaten yet) zucchini & mushroom spaghetti with a mixed green salad and some garlic bread.

Then I sorted all the pet bottles, cans, and glass bottles for recycling. That done, and Masa back from his jog, I asked him if he'd run it to the recycle center. He sighed. Deeply.

How many bags were there? Had I loaded them in the car yet? etc. etc.

This man works insane hours during the week. That is true. This man has Rheumatoid arthritis--also true. But this full-time working mother of two little girls and one workaholic husband wanted to strangle him like Homer does Bart. And then fling him around a bit for good measure.

While I stood in front of the sofa looking down at him he asked again, "Did you put the bags in the car yet?" For the love of God.

After he left with the recycling stuff (which I lugged out to the car) I headed off to the supermarket again to pick up yet more groceries as I had an idea for lunch tomorrow. Back from the store, I began making black bean vegetable soup. To go with tomorrow's beef fajitas at lunch time.

In between all the cooking I was still dealing with stages of laundry and doing a hell of a lot of dishes. We have no dishwasher so it is all by hand.

Looking around now what is left to be done is: (1) serve up dinner (still waiting for Masa to return, he decided to drop in the office after the recycle center. However, Reno begged him to take her with him so she could study in the University's library, so that's my guarantee that he will actually return for dinner--the daughter hostage.) (2) Force the young one (Saki) into the bath and evaluate her health condition carefully. She's been sneezing and coughing all day, but I've been too busy to pause longer than to confirm that she has no temperature. (3) Fold a huge pile of laundry and put it away. (4) Vacuum the entire house (5) pick up upstairs (6) Study for Driving school (7) Grade 22 essays (8) Grade 22 quizzes.

Not a chance in hell that more than two or three things on that list is going to get done.

And I forgot to put "dinner clean up" on there.

But I'm thinking. . . . I actually know several women with RA who can wash dishes. And actually, they all work outside the home too. So, would it be so out of hand to ask Masa to perhaps, perchance, do the washing up after dinner tonight?

And as soon as I have a drivers license, I am gonna start spending money on hiring someone to come in and do some cleaning to help out. Screw Masa's attitude that I am a woman, endowed with ovaries and ordained to do all domestic chores and duties.