Let’s call her “A”
So, I am thinking about getting a sister wife. Let’s just call her “A”. I love this woman so much because she reduces my anxiety and literally cuts my blood pressure in half. I finally broke down and hired a cleaning lady. I hate to clean. When I told “A” how much I hate to clean, she replied “I love the shit out of it.” Match made in heaven. Done. To walk into my house and have everything done is amazing. I would want this sister wife to have nothing to do with my husband, unless she needed a black eye and some missing teeth. I kinda just want her to be a fairy and appear when we aren’t there. I love her though and will never let her go.
She even leaves me love notes. “Can you get some more Orange Glo? You are out.”
Yes, I’ll do anything for you. And I love you too.
Usually “A” comes when I am at work. This time I had to work too….just a little different work than playing four square with 3rd graders. I taught 2 yoga classes, then took a class after those two…all in a studio that is just one degree short of hell on the heat scale.
I drove home, fogging up my windows with my body heat, weak and starving. I had exactly one hour before I had to be back to teach another class. I wanted to go home put on my comfy giant sweatpants with bleach stains, lay on the couch, watch Teen Mom 2, eat a bag of Pirate Booty, all while simultaneously getting past level 65 in Candy Crush and checking everyone’s FB status updates.
Excited about awesome hour to myself, I pulled in the driveway and realized “A” was still there. I thought about peeling out and driving a few houses away until she left. But I desperately needed my spot on my couch. I thought back to Steve Harvey’s book…Think Like A Man, Act Like a Lady. My husband would not feel guilty about going in and resting for a bit. He would think, Who cares…you are paying her! That’s right! I bucked up and went inside my own house.
I walked in, said hello and plopped my happy ass on the couch. Turned on Teen Mom 2 (I know it is trash), and ate my Pirate Booty. Of course, when “A” came into the room, I gave her the disclaimer about why I was doing that, what time I had to wake up that morning (5am), how hot the studio is, and asked her to not think I was lazy. She agreed that she would be exhausted too, and I deserved a rest.
She is moving in next week. Bam.