I am able to admit when I can’t do something.
Like, cooking is a prime example.
Singing is another – which was evident when I was about 9 years old and tried out for a local production of “The Princess and the Pea” and I could not sing “Row, row, row your boat.”
All I wanted to do was sleep on 20 mattresses, but no, I wasn’t even cast as an “extra.”
I told my mom, “That play was stupid anyways.”
Flash-forward to junior high. There was another play. I tried out again by singing “Wind Beneath my Wings” by Bette Midler. I sounded like a dead frog as I belted out “It must have been cold there in my shadowwwww.”
After I failed to get a part – for a second time in my life – I finally said, “Screw it, I will just pay $5 to go see the play.”
Never again did I try out for a play. I joined the local dance studio instead – where as I stood on stage with six to 10 other people, I was less likely to look like an idiot, plus, it didn’t involve me opening my mouth to sing.
So, you see, I admit defeat.
But right now, my husband is pretending he is a world-class electrician.
You see, he wants an electrical outlet in the “unfinished” portion of our basement so he can plug-in whatever it is he wants to plug-in.
Twenty-long-ass-minutes ago, he cut the power to the location where he is pretending to be the world-class electrician. We have no Internet connection.
BUT, what we do have is our stupid house alarm beeping at ear-piercing volumes every 10 seconds.
I finally went downstairs to see what is going on …
Our son is sprawled out on the floor, playing with a dump truck.
ME — “Are you SURE you know what you are doing??”
SETH – “Um, I took ADVANCED PHYSICS IN HIGH SCHOOL! I THINK I CAN HANDLE THIS!”
That was in 1993. That was 20 YEARS ago. Is he serious?
I walked away, shaking my head.
It’s now been 40 minutes. I feel a headache forming. I don’t know how much more BEEPING I can take. It’s starting to drive me “BEEP-ING” CRAZY!
Why can’t men admit defeat? I did. I survived and everyone should be thankful they didn’t have to hear me sing on stage.
Our oldest is outside now, in the 29 degree temps, trying to break ice.
I may soon be joining him.
Oh, who am I kidding … it’s WINE O’CLOCK!