I got the mail yesterday for the first time since Maria left.  Its been a week so I figured I’d cut the mailman some slack so he can stop Tetris-ing new magazines into the box.  I’d love to take credit for giving him a little game on an otherwise boring route but, the reality is, getting the mail just isn’t my job.  Its Maria’s.  Its not beneath me, its just not in my lane when it comes to the normal division of labor.  Here are some other things that I’m not responsible for:

  • Laundry
  • Cooking
  • Cleaning
  • Paying bills
  • RSVPing
  • Booking travel
  • Feeding the dog
  • Picking out the kids’ clothes
  • Picking out my clothes
  • Scheduling doctor appointments
  • Setting the au pair’s schedule
  • Grocery shopping
  • Scheduling vet appointments
  • Sending thank you cards

Just to name a few.

What am I responsible for?

  • Waving to the kids every morning as I leave for work.
“We love you daddy” -Everyone

Anyway, back to the mail.  As you’ve noticed above, scheduling vet appointments is not on my list.  So you can imagine the distress as I opened a reminder card from the South Wilton Veterinary Group. Quincy is due for shots before we board him over Thanksgiving so this isn’t something I can just stack on Maria’s desk.  Ugh.  Since the brown mutt rarely crosses my mind I was instantly worried I would forget to make the appointment and, like the genocide of indigenous people, ruin Thanksgiving.  Suddenly, a brilliant idea popped into my head.  I would attach the appointment card to my key chain as a reminder to call and make the appointment on my way to work.  Soothed by my genius I found the clarity to execute my plan.

PROBLEM:  The jingling of my keys, like Pavlov’s bell, sparked a migration to the kitchen.  But instead of food they craved farewells from their dear old dad as he leaves to bring home the proverbial bacon (and sometimes actual bacon because, since Maria handles the grocery shopping, he’s often left with only turkey bacon and disdain).  But it was only 8am.  Au pair Miriam was just taking over and I needed get ready for work.

“But daddy, we want to wave!!!!” – kids

“aww, but I’m not leaving yet.” – Logic

“WAVE!!!!” – monsters

“NOT NOW!” – asshole

Weary of the exchange, I negotiated that someone would wave to someone before we all leave for work and school, respectively.

The Race Is On

I’m on the hook for a wave now and the clock is ticking.  As I’m shaving and rushing to get ready I’m reminded of another responsibility: I save meaningless amounts of money on everyday essentials.

OK. Not really a responsibility… More of a liability probably… but its a thing and its going on my list.  Let me explain.

Instead of spending $39 on 4 x 5-blade razors that pamper your face, I spend $16 on 39 two-blade razors from Costco that were probably designed to shave pigs.  Disposables.  Only I don’t dispose of them.  I use them until the low quality blades deteriorate over several weeks and I inevitably scrape a bunch of skin off my face.  That timing happened to coincide with today’s hurried shave and, buddy, did I do a number on this mug.

Blood was dripping from my face and I stained two shirts before I got it under control.  This is especially unfortunate because those stains will have really set by the time Maria gets back to tackle the first item on her list.  I wish her luck.

But, in all honesty, you couldn’t even notice by the end of the day.  And my face doesn’t look that bad.


In fact, we’re both pretty darn cute.

You’re welcome,



PS – After I stopped the bleeding and walked downstairs I saw Miriam and the kids pulling out of the driveway.

Dad = 0 waves


Who’s the loser?  This guy.

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