This was going to be a post about my wonderful, darling, devious husband and the surprise he pulled off for the end of my 40 Days of 40.
It's still coming.
But tonight, I have to do a little complaining about a night on which my feminist sensibilities went right out the window. Or in this case, down the drain.
I've spent the last two hours covered in filthy pipe water, courtesy of my backed-up kitchen sink. I've changed two sets of clothing, disconnected and reconnected a bunch of pipes, scrapped gunk out with a knife, and made multiple trips to the bathroom to dump the bowl that will never again be used for any type of food product in my house.
Two hours, one set of dedicated friends, a wire hanger, two loads of laundry, a mix of vinegar and baking soda, and a plunger later . . . the sink is working.
And I may never eat again. So really, it's a win all the way around.
Especially for my husband, who missed all the fun by being somewhere else tonight.
Feminist or not, I agree with Buffy: "I was raised to believe that the men dig up the corpses and the women have the babies."