Note: I wrote this a few years ago when I was doing a "trial retirement." I don't make this stuff up; it really happens to me.
I’ve been trying real hard to adjust to my new role as a “house-wife.” But I decided tonight that I’m going to quit trying to be something I’m not. I ain’t no June Cleaver and I sure ain’t no Martha Stewart! Using my new favorite word, I hate those “bitches” anyway.
It all started when I went into the kitchen to start cooking a wonderful fried chicken dinner for my darling husband, Ward Cleaver. The first thing I was going to do was make tea. I reached for the 10 lb. bag of sugar that I bought from Sam’s last week and ants ran out everywhere. Where did those little buggers come from? Before being unemployed, I would have chunked the sugar. It took me a while to figure out that I would have to dip the sugar out one spoonful at a time and examine it for ants. I started this project and pretty soon, sugar was all over the counter and all over the floor. By then, I had to abandon that project because I was running out of time. I reached for the flour and the canister was empty. I spent 5 minutes plundering through the cabinets looking for the flour. I spent another 5 minutes getting dressed to go to the store. As I was walking out the door, I spotted the flour bag on the counter. Okay. I started frying my chicken. Then it was time to put on my rice. I had to drag the 20 lb. bag of rice that I got from Sam’s out of the pantry because I’m not supposed to lift anything over ten pounds. Since I couldn’t lift it, I had to open it on the floor and dip it into my rice pot. Of course, it spilled and I got rice all over my floor. I was proud of my chicken. It only burned slightly while I was cleaning up the rice. When the chicken was done, I glanced at the clock. I had just enough time before Ward was due home to make my gravy and warm up the Glory beans that John Tyre told me about. Just as my grease got hot enough to make gravy, Ward opens the door and says, “Come quick! We have a problem!” Water was running out from under the house. I performed an investigation for about five minutes. When I opened the kitchen door, smoke hit me in the face and just as I looked over at the stove, the frying pan burst into flames. I did what they tell you not to do; I picked up the frying pan, made a dash for the door and chunked it. The beans were also burned to the bottom of the pot. After getting the house under control, I had to go outside and beat the grass because it was on fire.
The good news is that the house didn’t burn down and I didn’t get burned. The bad news is all we had left to eat was plain rice and fried chicken. I offered to cook something else, but Ward said, “It’s okay, June, I can look at the kitchen and tell you’ve had a hard day.”
So as of right now, it’s goodbye June and Ward….hello George and Marilyn!