Dear Future Husband

Since I've been a homeowner - which has been extremely empowering, by the way - I find myself keeping a running tally of chores that I don't mind doing and chores that will definitely become my future husband's. It's probably not fair for me to decide his chores all on my own, so it seems much more polite to write him a little love note letting him know what the job description is BEFORE he signs up for it.

So here is episode 1 of what I'm sure could become quite a lengthy series...

Dear Future Husband,

Doing the dishes is totally no big deal. The cooking part I like too. But today, as I was pre-rinsing everything for the dishwasher, the little spout for the juicer went down the garbage disposal. Down into the dark and scary depths of the garbage disposal.

I sat there. Staring at the drain for a minute, calculating my options. Attempt 1 for retrieving the spout involved putting tongs down there to try to bring it back up. No luck. I tried holding back the little rubbery things on the drain cover in an effort to SEE down the abyssmal garbage disposal. Still no luck. At this point, I considered how much I actually use the disposal and whether or not I could survive without it ever again. But the spout is pretty necessary for the juicer, and to be honest, I was hoping to put the waste pulp from the juice I just made down the disposal anyway. Drats. I couldn't ignore the issue.

So I finally had to roll up my sleeve (which was unnecessary, because as it turns out, it's not as deep down there as I thought), and put my hand down the disposal drain. It took to two seconds to fish out the spout, but in those two seconds, all sorts of nightmares flashed through my mind. What if it turned on all by itself? What if there is a monster in there? What if there are decrepid bits of rotten things down there?! (Even though I use those Plinko things to "clean" it regularly.)

The point is, this is definitely going to be your job to reach down the disposal for ill-placed items. Yes, I know my hand is smaller and fits easier down there, but I just really can't go through the emotions and stress again. Naturally, I try really hard to avoid things going down there, but if they do, expect a phone call or a note left on the sink alerting you that your lack of fear and knack at finding things is needed.

You're the best. Love you.

XOXO
jam