A Woman's Work is Never Fun

Dear Ann Abler,

Why is it okay for my husband to pay a lawn service, but not okay for me to have a housekeeper? I am busier than he is. I spend all day writing, teaching, raising two boys (12 and 4), completing grad school assignments, and talking to my mama on the phone. Isn't that enough? Don't I deserve domestic relief?

~  Jody Dyer

Dear Jody,

It sounds like you're in a 'Dyer' Situation. Sorry. I channeled Fozzie Bear; I'll start over:

Ahem. Domestic relief? You deserve a Nobel peace prize for not going ballistic and an Academy Award for Best Supporting Everything. How are you even able to compose a coherent sentence? Lay down or have a drink, please, because you’re making me tired.

First off, has it actually been established that it’s not “okay” for you to get a housekeeper? Second, does your husband only live in the yard? Who determined that a housekeeper is for you and lawn service is for him? Unless your house is pink and the yard is blue, there is really no way sure-fire way to divide this stuff up according to sex. 

Is this your house?

Now, you could be straightforward with your husband, and discuss your budget and options over dinner. Or, you could do the next most sensible thing and ask, “what would Lucy do?” Well, according to Season 2, Episode 4 (see how it’s sort of like quoting Bible verses?), the best thing to do is switch places with your husband for a week. You do his job. He does yours. Hilarity ensues. You might have some ‘splaining to do, but everyone will learn a little something along the way. Get ready for some zany antics, because those will happen as well. 

Who's got splaining to do now?

If for any reason that fool-proof plan fails, you can try doing what Ray did in Everybody Loves Raymond, and just be really bad at housework until your spouse insists on taking over (or getting you some help!).

Poor Debra

Isn't it nice how TV can solve all of our problems?

Zany!

Now say two Hail Mommies and pour yourself a margarita. Unless it’s before 5 pm. In that case, make yourself a mimosa. 

You’re welcome,

Your Ann Abler

Driving Miss Crazy

Dear Ann Abler,

I watched my wife make a 17-point turn and kept my mouth completely shut. The. Whole. Time. To recap: 17-point turn. Mouth shut. Whole time. I’d like to convey to her that she should be really proud of me for not making any comments, especially seeing as how her driving skills just about caused all the synapses in my brain to spontaneously combust and send me to an early grave. I think I’ll remind her of my impressive restraint later this evening to see if it puts her in ‘the mood’.

It’s a good idea, right?

Mr. Mouth Shut

Dear Mr. Mouth,

Nope.

You’ll thank me later for the lack of injury to your groin area.

Ciao.