Making The Grade

So Cute Redhead had business travel again last week. Rhode Island, or Boston, or New York, or all three of themIForgetAndCantBeBotheredWithThis…

It, quite naturally, fell to me to make sure the kids didn’t get blood on the walls were taken care of. And, quite professionally, I did just that, if I do say so myself.

I used to make cocky little lists of Things To Do while she was away. Things I can’t get to under normal circumstances due to Life insisting that Life be tended to 24/7. Things like: clean the garage…build the fence…finish painting the trim…go clubbing and dance till they pry my cold dead fingers off the pole. But things which, in her absence, I had more Me Time with which to go clubbing be responsible and focused.

All of that falls by the wayside, however, when it turns into All Hands On Deck and I find myself the sole-center of the Universe (read: Though I Am Fully Functioning Human With Opposable Thumbs, I Can’t Do Anything Without Pestering Dad First) and, worse, completely unable to recruit that most favored of phrases, “Go ask your mother.”

Everything went fine. The kids were alive, fed, clothed, loved, natured, nurtured bleah bleah bleah, right?

But the afternoon Wife returned I noticed she was moving throughout the house with a bit of Drawers Shutting A Little Too Loudly, etc., etc. After a good forty-five minutes of the heavy sighing I made my way to the kitchen to (finally) deal with the sink full of breakfast dishes, whereupon I made a huge tactical blunder that went like this:

[turns on hot water] [rinses plate] “Um…so. How’re you doing?”

“Okay.”

[loads dishwasher] “A ha. Well. You seem to be moving throughout the house picking up this, wiping up that…all with body language leading me to suspect your aren’t all that pleased with the state of things upon your return, yes?”

“Well. I wouldn’t exactly say that.”

[wipes counter] “Lol well. I would. I’m not new here.”

“Yes. Well. No. You did pretty well and I thi—”

“—I DID PRETTY WELL LOL??”

“Yes. I’d give you an 85%.”

[turns off water] “Wait…what? Did you just say you’d ‘give me an 85%??’”

“Yes. What would you have given yourself.”

“A frontal lobotomy on our wedding da—you know, shocking as this may seem, I don’t GRADE my performance like this lol.”

“Oh.”

“And what, pray, was it exactly that earned me this solid B?”

“The dishes were left in the sink.”

“The dishes in the sink.”

“Yes.”

*stares at Walking Grade Book “You’re kidding me.”

“No. It could have been a 92.”