I want a wife
I want a wife. Someone who will cook for me, clean for me and generally put my life in order.
I love to cook. But as the years go by I feel less and less like standing over the stove. Wives love to cook. That’s a known fact.
I have never been much of a housekeeper. Since I have to pay to have someone clean my place, that’s just one of the savings I’d get from having a wife.
And a wife could spend her days doing all of those wifely things that puzzle me so:
Scrapbooking. Spending hours on end cutting photos into heart shapes and cheerily writing insipid “first day at school!” captions. My photos are still in the envelopes from the places where they were developed. Sometimes I had the presence of mind to write Maui 97 or Tahoe 94 on the envelope flap, but they’re mixed up and out of order. I need someone who gives a damn to clean them up. Cut them into shapes. Put little hearts over the i’s.
Getting super excited about the latest “wipes” to hit the market. The last time I counted, you could buy wipes for more than two dozen different needs: baby, “female hygiene” and dusting are just a few. Since I am terrified I will use the wrong wipe for the wrong body part or the wrong room, they tend to stay in their boxes. A clever wife could straighten this out.
Visiting the free photography studios for some 70’s era shots with the kids. Stiffly posed in last year’s clothes, the resulting photos will grace everything from my mantel to the fridge to my keychain and Christmas tree. Why not? They were free.
I don’t mind if my wife works. As long as it’s only part-time. Nothing that interferes with getting my meals on the table. Ebay, dog walking or taking online surveys for Cash! would all be acceptable.
I like to play pool. Watch football. Have the guys over. Wifey will come in handy on these occasions, serving drinks and huddling in the corner with the other wives, discussing scrapbooking and wipes.
And of course, my wife has to take care of her wifely duties. None of this once a month on a rainy Sunday nonsense that all of my married friends complain about. My wife should be at attention and ready to go when I am ready too. She’ll also take care of the family planning, since I never ever want to worry about that again. That will be her responsibility alone. And God forbid there’s an unplanned pregnancy; there will be hell to pay.
I want a wife. Is that so much to ask?
I love to cook. But as the years go by I feel less and less like standing over the stove. Wives love to cook. That’s a known fact.
I have never been much of a housekeeper. Since I have to pay to have someone clean my place, that’s just one of the savings I’d get from having a wife.
And a wife could spend her days doing all of those wifely things that puzzle me so:
Scrapbooking. Spending hours on end cutting photos into heart shapes and cheerily writing insipid “first day at school!” captions. My photos are still in the envelopes from the places where they were developed. Sometimes I had the presence of mind to write Maui 97 or Tahoe 94 on the envelope flap, but they’re mixed up and out of order. I need someone who gives a damn to clean them up. Cut them into shapes. Put little hearts over the i’s.
Getting super excited about the latest “wipes” to hit the market. The last time I counted, you could buy wipes for more than two dozen different needs: baby, “female hygiene” and dusting are just a few. Since I am terrified I will use the wrong wipe for the wrong body part or the wrong room, they tend to stay in their boxes. A clever wife could straighten this out.
Visiting the free photography studios for some 70’s era shots with the kids. Stiffly posed in last year’s clothes, the resulting photos will grace everything from my mantel to the fridge to my keychain and Christmas tree. Why not? They were free.
I don’t mind if my wife works. As long as it’s only part-time. Nothing that interferes with getting my meals on the table. Ebay, dog walking or taking online surveys for Cash! would all be acceptable.
I like to play pool. Watch football. Have the guys over. Wifey will come in handy on these occasions, serving drinks and huddling in the corner with the other wives, discussing scrapbooking and wipes.
And of course, my wife has to take care of her wifely duties. None of this once a month on a rainy Sunday nonsense that all of my married friends complain about. My wife should be at attention and ready to go when I am ready too. She’ll also take care of the family planning, since I never ever want to worry about that again. That will be her responsibility alone. And God forbid there’s an unplanned pregnancy; there will be hell to pay.
I want a wife. Is that so much to ask?
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