I Love Lucy
I'm sitting here, with a pair of scrub pants with a hole in them next to me. I need to sew them up, but I can't find the thread. I KNOW we have some here somewhere, and I found 6 needles, but I cannot find the yarn. I almost want to go and see if there's any at the cvs, but I know if I go there, I'll decide to get something else, and spend more money than I have.
But Thomas needs these pants sewed by tomorrow.
As I'm sitting here, Desi Arnez is singing, while Lucy is attempting to figure out why he's seeing the sexy housewife in the apartment below theirs. Sometimes I think growing up with Lucy screwed my brian a little bit. Lucy can do it all - make breakfast, spend $60 on a beautiful dress, make her husband screaming mad, do something to make him even more mad, make dinner, and she and Ricky make up by the time they've tucked themselves into their twin beds. And she does this without getting a redhair out of place. Well, for the most part.
I really identify with Lucy - I've got the red hair, the slightly ditzy personality, the ability to take something little and turn it into a complete disaster. I even have a husband who speaks in a south american language when he gets emotional! But my clothes aren't nearly as good, I don't meet nearly as many movie stars, and I can't ever seem to get dinner on time. (I also don't have a monthly appointment at the hairdresser to keep my blond roots from showing)
Thankfully my best friend does have a little more sense than Ethel, and I don't have a habit of hanging myself off of windows, or stuffing my bra with chocolate. And my husband loves me more than Ricky loves Lucy - He hardly ever tries to play tricks back on me.
I wonder, if I had been a 50s housewife, would I be better at it than I am today? Would I be able to find thread when I need it, put dinner on the table on time, and manage to get out of my sweatpants, and into a pretty dress by the time my husband comes home?
Or would I end up at the end of the day the same as I do now - sulking until my husband pulls me in for a kiss, tells me that he's going to make dinner, and that I can pick out a movie to watch.
I love Lucy, but thankfully my life isn't as crazy as hers. :)
But Thomas needs these pants sewed by tomorrow.
As I'm sitting here, Desi Arnez is singing, while Lucy is attempting to figure out why he's seeing the sexy housewife in the apartment below theirs. Sometimes I think growing up with Lucy screwed my brian a little bit. Lucy can do it all - make breakfast, spend $60 on a beautiful dress, make her husband screaming mad, do something to make him even more mad, make dinner, and she and Ricky make up by the time they've tucked themselves into their twin beds. And she does this without getting a redhair out of place. Well, for the most part.
I really identify with Lucy - I've got the red hair, the slightly ditzy personality, the ability to take something little and turn it into a complete disaster. I even have a husband who speaks in a south american language when he gets emotional! But my clothes aren't nearly as good, I don't meet nearly as many movie stars, and I can't ever seem to get dinner on time. (I also don't have a monthly appointment at the hairdresser to keep my blond roots from showing)
Thankfully my best friend does have a little more sense than Ethel, and I don't have a habit of hanging myself off of windows, or stuffing my bra with chocolate. And my husband loves me more than Ricky loves Lucy - He hardly ever tries to play tricks back on me.
I wonder, if I had been a 50s housewife, would I be better at it than I am today? Would I be able to find thread when I need it, put dinner on the table on time, and manage to get out of my sweatpants, and into a pretty dress by the time my husband comes home?
Or would I end up at the end of the day the same as I do now - sulking until my husband pulls me in for a kiss, tells me that he's going to make dinner, and that I can pick out a movie to watch.
I love Lucy, but thankfully my life isn't as crazy as hers. :)
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