Almost exactly four years ago the combination of heavy spring rains and my sump pump’s untimely demise lead to the spontaneous generation of a river below my living room.
This might have been nice (Consider the soothing babble of water! The dewy humidity! The bathing options!) but for the fact that a finished basement stood in its way. Being possessed of a crumbling marriage, difficult child, active toddler and a new-born whose adoption status rested on the blade of a knife, my ability to divert said river was at best limited. Furniture was moved to higher ground, insurance dried things out and replaced the carpets and while time more or less did its part to bring that part of the house back to tolerable standards, it was by no means fixed.
This fact nagged at me. Four years! I said to myself. Four years since the flood and still (STILL!) you haven’t replaced all the baseboards, you lazy girl you. Four years and you haven’t cleaned the detritus out from the storage room. Four years and you’ve not redone paint scarred by moving furniture, gigantic humidity-sucking fans and five-thousand trips up and down the stairs made by the water-buffaloes who call themselves your children. Four. Years. You fail at life.
Until such a point that I am able to spend several hours a day writing, a few more working on websites, even more writing for Jane, every waking one caring for the kids then the final three (or four) reading, I will not believe that my life is at full capacity. Oh, and I forgot to schedule in the hawt secks! At least every other day! Anything less than that amount of activity and I’m convinced that I’m the most intractable slacker.
This is poppycock, I know. But just try convincing the voices in my head.
Almost exactly four years after the flood, my darling boyfriend found himself with a brief break in his hectic schedule of international gallivanting and all-around troublemaking. “Can I come help you with some of your projects?” he asked, and before those little voices pointed out how horribly lazy it would be to accept the help, I’d said yes.
And so on a Monday morning just five minutes after the bus had pulled away from the curb I discovered a semi-nude man armed with a paintbrush in my basement. “Are you going to paint without any clothes on?” I asked, eyes wide with wonder and drinking in every bit of his exposed skin.
“Do you want me to paint without any clothes on?”
“Would you?”
“As you wish,” he said, and for the next couple hours I worked to the slap and roll of carefully applied paint, relaxing as (for once!) someone else took care of me.
Really? I should let people take care of me more often.
As a note to the do-it-yourselfers…paint carefully, while Nude…cleanup can be a painful, otherwise
You certainly should more often let people take care of you. There is no prize for filling every waking minute with life imperatives. There is, however, something to be awarded for nude helpers.
Why doesn’t this ever happen to me?
That is so damn awesome. Toyboy’s practically a never-nude (thanks, Arrested Development!) so I seldom get treated to half naked housework.
Lucky thing! How’s your basement looking now?
Awesome!
You are so lucky. I would love to have a naked man to help around the house, even though I’m fully capable of doing most home repairs on my own.
Home repairs are always better if done by someone else, especially if that someone else is naked!
This is a completely unrelated comment (although I think next time we’re doing work on the house, I’m mandating that the BF work without a shirt on ;) ), but a while ago there was some discussion about other uses for various sex toys (a cursory search did not reveal what I was looking for sadly), and I wanted to say that I have discovered a new use for the common vibrator: A battery tester.
Very few other AA-powered tools only require one battery and such require multiple tests to determine which battery is the faulty one…but not the slimline! And it’s easy to determine the strength of the battery too, given the range of vibrations that I always seem to forget this toy has when, after many nights of pleasure, the batteries by my bed are somewhat emptied…
Brilliant. Better than a multimeter.
Bahahaha That is Brilliant… but I have to tell you that when you whip that out of your electronics tools box there is going to be some ‘splainin’ to do.
AAG you should sponsor a homemade sex toy/household tool “contest” see who can walk through Home Depot or sex toy shop and come up with the largest number of off the shelf sex toys or tools that double as something else.
… man I hate it when I think of something that should have been said then you type this bit of explanation to what comes next than sit blankly in front of the screen … now what was I going to say again… Oh yae
…a sure way to stir up the creative juices and more bragging rights to the most pervy… I mean creative.