miles militis domi

If we’re being honest, and there is no reason why we should not be, then I can tell you that I’m not going to use those coupons. The idea was that using the coupons would pay for the cost of the paper which was bought for the purpose of finding a used car. The paper sucks for finding a used car, in case you were wondering. You already knew that. You use CraigsList (Craig’s List? craigslist?) to buy stuff, like a normal human being. Me too, now, so let’s just go ahead and recycle those coupons now, shall we?

While I am up, I think I’ll clean the dinner dishes. By “clean” of course I mean “put in the dishwasher” but there is a step of manual labor involved. Since we have lived with a dishwasher for five years now, I have lost all memory of the joy of not having to wash everything by hand. Putting things into the dishwasher feels like a noble act. So does wiping down the kitchen table. This sudden rush of chivalric domesticity has inspired me to iron a shirt.

The shirt is my “wreck” shirt, or the one I was wearing last Wednesday. I will wear it tomorrow when I replace the wrecked car. (The power of positive thinking.) It will feel good to wear an ironed wreck shirt as I sit down to breakfast at a clean table. To be honest, these may have been the only things I did well this day. I was not a great employee or outstanding husband. I have had worse days as a father, but I’ve had better. The best I can do is scullery maid. Maybe that’s not so bad.