I must take umbrage with a regular reader of Just Humor Me. You never know when you’re going to end up on the internet. Barbara, today’s your day.
My husband told me last night that Barbara, longtime friend and prehistoric supporter of Just Humor Me, said in a meeting that there was an ad that she thought should be targeted to today’s woman.
“You know, not a housewife who’s sitting around with nothing to do.”
As a self proclaimed housewife, I must object. First off, we have lots of things to do. We don’t do any of them, of course, but there’s a list and it’s long. So if we’re lounging around with mushy brains, it’s not because we don’t want to be today’s woman, it’s because we haven’t gotten out of our pajamas yet and there’s an unfinished game of Spider Solitaire on the laptop.
We’re smart though. Make no mistake. Didn’t I use the word “umbrage” at the very start of this? I rest my case.
Once, years ago, one of my husband’s secretaries (oops, ad-mins; my apologies to them and all working women) said, “So, are you taking any classes or anything?” I knew that was polite ad-min code for “What do you do all day?”
“No,” I answered. “Not even a little bit.” We looked at each other for a few seconds. The silence was not at all awkward for me. I feel no obligation to make up “classes” that I’m supposedly “taking.”
What we housewives do when the last child leaves for school and the last husband trudges out the door for work is not common knowledge.
If word got out about this sweet deal we have, women everywhere would be quitting their big important jobs. The organized world would come to a screeching halt, not to mention all hospitals and schools. There would be no more female congressmen or chiefs of police. Even the deli cashiers and the sales reps and the female professional bowlers would all quit their jobs when they found out what happens during the day when it’s still light outside and the suburbs are ruled by housewives, the unemployed, the homeless, and kids skipping school.
In that world, we’re queen. There are regularly scheduled parties, fireworks, happy hours and sunbathing. (You didn’t really think we got these tans by taking the kids to the playground, did you?) We eat cheesecake a lot. We have Harlequin romance book club meetings and discussions of Lifetime movies, while we smoke cigarettes and have seven-and-sevens. We bring in secret cleaning ladies to do all the housework we’re supposed to be doing. They’re paid well – in cash – to keep quiet.
I’ve already said too much. Barbara, and all the rest of you working stiffettes, for the sake of the business world, I think you should forget all that you’ve heard here today and stay with your day jobs.