I know many of you wonder, "What is this glamorous gold-digger life of luxury that Class Factotum leads and how can I get one?"
The secret, of course, is to marry a rich divorced engineer and suck him dry while he slaves and slaves until the wee hours to keep you in pedicures and bon bons. That's my strategy.
Let me tell you what could be yours. Here is my life since yesterday morning.
Do a load of laundry and hang on the line.
Throw cats off the island where they are trying to eat the peonies and the tulips. Repeat ad nauseam. Leave cats in the basement when I go to the gym so they don't eat my flowers.
Go to the gym. Sort of work out but not really because hahahahaha SH can't afford to divorce me so who cares if I look good?
Grocery store: what's on the bargain counter? Oh. Wait. I don't care about saving money! Lobster! Danish butter at $7/lb! The sky is the limit.*
Go to Target to see if the scarf I bought two weeks ago has been marked down even further so I can get another price adjustment like I did last week.
Garden shop. Are the tomatoes in yet? Nope.
Home. Prep the chicken and veg for tonight's supper. Throw nasty chicken-juice soaked container in trash with note to self to put out for collection Wed a.m. before it starts to stink.
Clean the garden window of cat hair** and cat noseprints. This entails climbing up on the footstool, then balancing on the sink to reach all the way back to the box window. Remove every item from the windowshelf (the window is about 28" deep***) and wash it. Cat hair is flying.
Think about washing the outside of the window again even though I just did the windows two weeks ago and decide no, why bother.
Collect and fold laundry. Leave SH's t-shirts unfolded because he doesn't like how I do them and I am OK with that.
Pull more dandelions from the front yard while I wait for the driveway guy to come to give us an estimate. Wait. Wait. Call after half an hour. Oh, he's not going to be able to come tonight. That's a mark on his permanent record.
Distribute invitations to a few women on my street to come over on Thursday night to clear out the leftover chocolate in the house so SH and I can get back on the straight and narrow.
Plan menu for said event: macarons, brownies, zucchini bread, cheese and crackers, Halloween candy.
And blah, blah, blah.
Today, I have already cleaned the cat box, planted tomato seedlings from the other garden place (Ha! I spit in your face, Fate!), made SH a lovely lunch sandwich of roasted garlic, cheese, and smoked beef tenderloin, washed my down vest by hand, including scrubbing the dirt off the hem and the pocket area with a brush, planted more flowers in the front, and eaten a small bag of peanut M&Ms left over from my Halloween stash because I feel fat.
* Not really. I got zucchini.
** From our allegedly non-shedding, allegedly Siamese cats.
*** I ask SH how deep the window is. "I don't know." "Estimate." "About two feet. But now I have to know." So he measures. It's actually 28".