Friday, February 8, 2008

One Brazilian Step At A Time

The dishwasher is finally in our dining room.

This is what it's like being married to a Brazilian. Everything happens in its time. When your dishwasher breaks, the husband doesn't really care because the wife can just do the dishes by hand. But sometimes that does NOT receive a happy camper response.

So then the husband agrees to go buy a dishwasher, but every night after work begs to stay home and promises that you'll go out the NEXT night. You think, what's one more night, but after a week you start to get a little angry.

You finally drag the husband out of the house and go to Home Depot, only to find that the model you want at is another store. No big deal, since the husband was going to have to come back with the truck anyway. He can just drive on over to the other store instead.

You leave to run errands and expect a new dishwasher to be installed when you get home. You're so excited, but when you get home, your husband has decided to clean the kitchen instead. Which is GREAT, but not what you needed him to be doing. And you can't yell at him or he'll never clean the kitchen again.

At this point you back off a bit because any more pressure to do something in a timely fashion will cause the husband's brain to explode. And who will get the dishwasher and install it then?

One week later the husband finally picks up the dishwasher on his way home from work. He was going to surprise you, but has to call you at work three times to make sure he's getting the right stuff. And you would have been surprised, because after another week, you had decided the dishwasher was just a dream.

The husband unloads the giant box in the dining room. Where it still is to this day, each side covered with marker drawings and princess stickers. There have been promises that it will get installed on Sunday, but you know this really means any Sunday within the next four weeks.

Which you're surprisingly okay with, as it's been kind of nice to have that extra box top space to put things on.

After taking a picture of the box in the dining room, you notice another mark of the Brazilian husband. The fence in the background that has had the bottom half unstained since last summer becuase the husband ran out of stain and hasn't gone back for more. Though he plans to. Just stop nagging and give him some time.

Oh. And those rugs on the patio? Those are rugs that got wet when the dishwasher flooded and were thrown outside, and then got even wetter when it rained, and still haven't gotten washed yet. Which is why you can't really say too much to your husband. Because you're a bit of a slacker yourself.

1 comment:

  1. I'm not sure its the Brazillian-ness thats the problem here. I think its more the husband-ness, because that story sure founds familiar to me and my husband is a New Yorker.


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