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“My Cake”
ATTENTION LADIES! You heard it here first! This is the hardest, most challenging, thoroughly exhausting job I’ve had in my entire life. I’m a house –husband, and have been since being injured at work in May. I now understand why a housewife, especially one with small children, wants to go dancing on Saturday night.
There’s no kids involved here though. However, three dogs, one of them only three months old, keep me busy. Reilly, our daughter-in-law’s King Charles Cavalier also comes upstairs to spend the day. I compare it to having four toddlers underfoot, constantly. Not to mention their hourly relief trips downstairs and out back.
Excuse me, I can’t hear your sighs of empathy. Honest ladies, I’m not like the rest of them guys; I’ve seen the light. Would it help if I told you that I’m also trying to make our one-hundred-fifty- year old house habitable, in my spare time. My darling wife is tired of her kitchen table looking like Norm’s shop. I don’t think I’m getting through to you, but I know the dogs love me and here’s the rest of my story.
I’ve wanted to bake a cake since Sunday night. The grand-daughters will be home from a weekend trip. They love my cakes. I need it to put in my wife’s lunch on Monday. To be honest, I crave the praise I get from all of them. So I get out my cake mix, a box of instant pudding, and a nine by thirteen baking dish. Yes, a mix! I never claimed to be Martha Stewart or Julia Child. I affectionately line them up on the counter where they must wait until I have time to begin.
Monday I spend a good part of the day doing all the routine things that we house persons all have to do. Preparing for a four-thirty doctor’s appointment I realize I have forty minutes to spare. I get my baking stuff and glasses and suddenly shudder as I read “add three eggs”. Being the ever-efficient house person, I know I used four eggs in Sunday’s chicken salad. I knew I only had one left because I was tempted to add it to the salad but didn’t. I threw the packages into the baking pan and left for my appointment.
It’s Tuesday and today I’m going to make my cake. I sent my wife off to work with some stale Tortilla chips for her afternoon break. I’m loosing face at this point. I suddenly remember, they have a refrigerator downstairs! What’s a couple of eggs? We fed our son for years didn’t we? He owes us! I’ll get them after Chris leaves for work. “ Hello!” She yells up the front stairs. “Can you fix the sump pump?” “The basement’s flooded.” “No problem, I’ll take care of it”, I yelled down.
At 3:05 PM I finally finished fixing the sump pump. Actually it didn’t need fixing. I used it a few weeks ago to pump out the pool cover and forgot to put it back. After shoveling, scooping and mopping up the mess I’m finally back upstairs. I still have to dry the laundry, wash last night’s dishes, get the tools off the kitchen table, take the dogs out and start supper. I don’t think I’ll have the time or energy to make my cake tonight. I’ll have to try again tomorrow. It was a rough day overall but, at least I’ve got my eggs.
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