We live in Michigan and it’s February and it’s FUCKING COLD, UGH good lord I am SICK of it. The snow and the shoveling. You would think being life long Michiganders we would have a snow blower. Right? We have 3. Now ask me if any of them work? HELL TO THE NO. Why? I don’t know, something about the gas/oil mixture or spark plugs. To be honest I don’t know how to start the damn thing and even if I did I would probably trip and shred my leg or something horrific. So shoveling it is, but again that MOSTLY falls to the husband, yet I will bitch about it because I am the wife. It’s art form really. Bitching that is. Not all are good at it or understand it’s TRUE beauty. It is a rare and mysterious, like a griffin or a unicorn (in our house at least, fucking unicorns rule). Once a woman becomes a wife there is this excitement having a PARTNER to share well everything with. Chores shared. Bed shared. Closets shared. Life. Shared. Until you realize you really adopted a large man child that refuses to put his clothes in the basket, clean the toilet, and shares his flatulence with you then proceeds to giggle about it. As you adjust to your new SHARED life, you say to yourself I will just ask him to help out a bit more or just pick up the slack because you are in LOVE and while that works for a while and you are content, you add in children. Yeah let’s complicate the whole GD situation, add little midget home destroyers. Then one day, it comes out WORD VOMIT aka bitching. “I am NOT your mother pick up your damn clothes”, “How hard is it to take the trash out”, “How long does it take to shit?” (25 to 45 minutes for the average husband/father). At first I cringed at the word vomit that was spilling out of my mouth, but now I accept it as a side effect of a healthy marriage. If he can AFTER 5 YEARS still allow himself to leave his clothes on the floor, then I can allow myself to bitch about the snow I am not shoveling.