He said, she said

Current Husband and I have set roles in our household:

CH
TV systems, usually consisting of us changing our service provider every few years.
Cell phones, usually consisting of us changing our service provider every few years.
Investing, usually consisting of us changing our service provider every few years.
Computer systems, usually consisting of...you get the idea.
Directing of yard work.

Bringing in the bulk of our income.
Making suggestive comments about sex, usually in a hopeful tone.

Julie
Everything else.
Instigating the actual sex.

I will say that since I got The Full Time Job Which I Can't Blog About, CH has really stepped up to the plate, and he now gets the younger kids ready for school in the morning, and he is in charge of driving The Son to his 5x a week tackle football practices and his flag football games, while I drive Youngest and Oldest Daughters to their music/dance lessons.  Of course, we no longer have Family Dinner because of said activities, which makes me very sad.  I have always been a big proponent of the Family Dinner.  So how do you say, "I'm sorry kids, you have to give up cello and a potential scholarship so I can see you fight at the table"?


Anyhoo, CH and I had to call in a plumber last week for an emergency leak under the sink, which seems to have happened after our home inspection, and YET, the floor in front of the kitchen sink is somewhat soft even though the plumber, who was awesome, stopped said leak.  Seems like perhaps it would take a long time for a subfloor to become soggy, but what do I know.  Then yesterday, we had an electrician come in because we can't run the vacuum cleaner the same time the air conditioning, or perhaps a toaster, is running, so we had to replace the junction box.  Cha-friggin-ching.  And?  I couldn't do laundry because the dryer had a European outlet.  That's right.  I bought a house in Iowa which accommodates European appliances.  We are THAT classy.  I can hear the sound of laundry drying right now, so it was worth the grand we dropped on it.  As a matter of fact, we have so much money that I am drying about $10,000 in fives in my American dryer plugged into a North American outlet right now.


CH held down the fort while the bunk bed installers came into the house (far and away the best $50 I've spent), so now my son can be disoriented and fall from six feet in the air at night when he needs to use the bathroom, but at least The Full Time Job I Can't Blog About has benefits.  


Now we need phone jacks installed, because this house apparently has two, and one of them is under the phone nook that is Todd "Hot Nuts" Epstein's new bedroom.  (My Dad, while moving things into my house, said, and I quote, "That fucking rodent had better not be here the next time I visit, or I'm getting a hotel."  He's not a fan of my taxidermied pet.  Todd shall have his revenge.  Oh yes, yes he will. BWAH HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!!)  CH has handled all of the other technical stuff in the new house, so I suggested he call the phone people, because CH is...how do I say...completely anal retentive when it comes to his service providers.  Which we change every few years because no one ever really does it up to his standards.  Here is the conversation:


ME:  "Are you calling the phone company or do you want me to do it?" 
translation: 'when are you calling the phone company?'
CH:  "You can call them, they should come this week."
translation: 'you can call them, they should come this week.'
ME:  "Uh, that's fine, I'll call, but you are never happy with it when I do it."
translation:  'I can't believe you are making me do this. It is SO not fine.'
CH:  "What are you talking about?  That never happens!"
translation:  'I am the easiest person to please on the planet. Let's have sex.'
ME:  "You are NEVER happy with any service I schedule.  Something always goes wrong."
translation:  'I am not responsible for what will inevitably go wrong, and I will buy art if you get angry with me in any way.'
CH:  "That is so not true."
translation:  'that is so not true.'
ME:  "We'll see."
translation:  'asshole.'


So this morning I am at The Full Time Job I Can't Blog About, and I decide to call Qwest and get it over with.  I call the toll-free number, and after five different numeric commands, I am in Hold Hell.  I was on hold for SEVENTEEN MINUTES, no kidding, and the entire time I had to listen to over-enthusiastic jazz with an over-enthusiastic announcer telling me all of the super Qwest deals I have the opportunity to pay them for, and how much they value me as a customer, and how a representative will be with me soon.  If I could have reached out and touched Joe Voice-Over, he would be Soprano Joe.  Darien came on the line, and asked if he could help me, and I said, "Darien, I know you don't control the hold music, but it's really awful and I want to kill someone."  Darien said, without missing a beat, "I have to listen to that hold recording about 10 times a day, and it makes me want to hurt someone too."   Whoa.  I was dealing with a professional here.  Darien and I were going to get along just fine.

He took my order for two additional phone jacks in the house, and while he was scheduling the service he told me about his five kids, one of whom just bought a car in Korea, and how he loves Dancing With The Stars.  I don't, but Darien I could just sop up with a biscuit he was so sweet.  As Darien is giving me my confirmation number for my service order, a message from CH pops up on my computer screen.
"Call me before you call Qwest."  

Too late, M-F'er.  I have a confirmation number.  Unbelievable.  I call CH.

"Well, such and such just told me he can do it and it will be cheaper, but he can't come over until Thursday, so maybe you can get Qwest to delay the service until we find out for sure that this guy can do it....."

I stopped listening at "Well," and started thinking about the rooster painting I really want at Five Star Salon Spa.  Momma's getting some art.  Thank you, Darien.  It was a pleasure.