"Saturday."

Today is Wednesday, but it's my Saturday.  I woke up at 6am, helped the kids prepare for school, then dropped them off at the school bus.  As I was driving back down the driveway, I wondered what husband had planned for the day.  I remembered back to last week, when I had four days off in a row and I was so excited about them, only to find out that I was to be Kenny's personal wheelbarrow bitch.  I hauled nearly thirty loads of dirt, followed by twenty loads of rocks.  Knowing that the walkway wasn't yet complete, I prepared myself for the worst.

After an entire pot of coffee, we headed outside.  Fortunately, the walkway was very near completion so all I had to do was haul bricks and bags of sand.  We were done by two o'clock and settled down on the couch for an hour of relaxation before we headed to retrieve the kids from school.

Kenny quickly swiped the remote from my hand and turned the channel to football, but not just any football: re-runs.  And not just any re-runs: re-runs that he's already seen, because sometimes football just isn't boring enough for him on the first go-round.  As is his habit (though I've never figured out why), he immediately began narrating the game to me, pausing it and occasionally turning it on slow-motion for effect.  I displayed my very best yawns and sighs and eventually resorted to nodding off, all of which were completely ignored by him.  At my point of desperation (three minutes in), I dramatically collapsed onto the floor in hopes that he would recognize my need for attention.  This is exactly when the announcer said something about a 'cornerback' and I laughed at the way he said 'quarterback'.  BIG mistake.  Apparently, those are actually two different positions, so this only encouraged Kenny to explain the positions of football to me for the 864th time.  Still on the floor, I threw myself into a series of violent convulsions so loudly that each time I paused, I could hear such things as, "Oh, let me rewind that, you HAVE to see that play again"...and..."Did you see that catch?  DID YOU SEE THAT CATCH?!!!"  I finally gave up and took a short nap right there on the floor.

Later in the day, after we'd picked the kids up from school, I decided to pay Kenny back via reverse psychology.  Here's the thing...I could ask him, "Honey, will you do the dishes?" and the answer would be a stern NO.  Or I could say, "Honey, if you do the dishes, I'll let you watch endless football until your dying day and never complain about it" and the answer would still be NO.  Or I could say, "Do you want to cook or do the dishes?" and the answer would be, "Dishes."  It's the strangest thing and I have no idea how it works, but I have found some sort of loophole in his brain's protocol that allows me to allocate this one chore to him that is almost his least favorite thing to do in the whole world...next to cooking.

So the house is clean, we're all fed and bathed and tomorrow is "Sunday."  While I would like to do Sunday activities, like drive really slowly down country roads with no destination or watch movies or do nothing at all, Kenny thinks we should build a bench to put next to the new walkway.  Maybe if I start convulsing in the middle of Menard's, he'll get the point.  But probably. it will just remind him of today's football and he'll try explaining the difference between cornerback and quarterback to me again.