Happy Mother’s Day

by Marinka on May 9, 2009

I had a sappy, heart wrenching tale of motherhood all ready for this weekend, but then I decided to blog about something else. But I’d already typed the “Happy Mother’s Day” blog title, and I was too lazy to change it. Besides, it makes me seem super timely, so you might as well enjoy the day for all I care. I know what you’re thinking. I should work for Hallmark.

So this morning, I took both kids to a class and then I realized that I had an hour and a half of free time, so I decided to go home. Now, I was going to be home about two hours earlier than Husbandrinka was expecting me, which made me a little nervous. Because when the kids and I are not home, I sort of assume that Husbandrinka is having sex with a neighbor or something. Please don’t mention this to him because he’d be really offended since our neighbors’ average age is dead. Maybe he got someone from the neighboring building, I’m not an expert in whores, so I don’t know how these things work. So as I’m walking home, I’m thinking that catching Husbandrinka and whorinka is really going to fuck up my weekend and possibly my marriage, and by the time that I get to our apartment building I am totally enraged and don’t think that I will ever forgive him. But I bravely say “hello” to the doorman and head upstairs.

I don’t have my keys and the door is locked, so I ring the doorbell. And then, because I am who I am, I put my finger over the peephole to frighten Husbandrinka, so that when he looks to see who’s interrupting his tryst by ringing the doorbell, he’ll be scared, as well he should be.

Except he doesn’t come to the door.

So I ring the doorbell again. Repeatedly.

Still nothing. No footseps. Nothing.

And now I really have to pee. Like a racehorse. On steroids.
So I start to call him on my cell phone, which re-enrages me because I can’t hold my finger on the peephole at the same time as I’m dialing, so I am forced to release the peephole and at that moment Husbandrinka opens the door.

“What the fuck?” I say, suddenly not having to pee at all. “Why didn’t you answer the door?”
“I thought it was Nicky jumping on the piano,” he said. Hmm. She has done that before. And no one ever rings our doorbell because the doorman always announces visitors, so we just open the door, before anyone has a chance to ring the doorbell.

And he didn’t even look through the peephole to see who was there. So my whole plot to scare him was completely wasted. Some people just don’t appreciate it when you majke an effort.

One year ago ...

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