A few months ago a friend of mine sent me an email. It made me laugh. I don’t have the original, but it went something like this:
A man came home from work one day to find his young son naked in the front yard, filling the window wells with water from the garden hose. Bikes were strewn across the lawn. A giant hole was dug from the center of the yard. Tools and garden equipment covered the front porch. Spray paint was splattered in pre-school artwork across the front door. Afraid something was wrong, he went into the house. There he found a track of dirt (must’ve been from the hole in the front yard) to a giant pile under the kitchen table. The floor was covered in a slick blue film of dish soap. The kitchen sink was on, and overflowing, turning the entire kitchen to a bubbly, muddy mess. He entered the hallway where he found toilet paper pulled off its roll and strewn from one room to the next. There was a streak of indiscernable color across the wall, ending at the far end of the hallway, where the toilet brush lay. Clothes and toys were every where. He entered the bedroom, calling for his wife. The room was littered with garbage strewn about by the wet family dog, who in his muddy exhaustion was asleep, sprawled across the unmade white sheets. The man was in a panic now, and entered the bathroom.
There he found his wife, still in her pajamas, sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall. Headphones were on her head, and a book hid her face. He reached out to her, finally getting her attention. She took off the headphones. “What happened?” the man asked.
And she replied “You know how you always ask me what I do all day? Well, today I didn’t do it.”