Mister Bubby:  Did you know that your body can’t digest corn?

Madhousewife:  I don’t want to take this discussion any further.

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Princess Zurg:  What if you had infinity brains?

Mad:  I don’t know.  What?

PZ:  Well, you’d be really smart.

Mad:  Or you’d be infinity-times as dumb.

PZ:  Well, what if the brains were all really big?

Mad:  As long as they weren’t all big, dumb brains.

PZ:  But what if they were all big, smart brains?

Mad:  Then I guess you’d be really smart.

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According to my Facebook news feed, a friend of mine “likes” Epilepsy.  I don’t think that’s quite right.  On the other hand, my news feed also tells me that my husband “likes” Sniffing Glue.  I know that is accurate.

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Speaking of sniffing glue, or rather, speaking of my husband, he is going to be out of town next week on business.  Next week Elvis will not be in camp anymore.  The housekeepers come on Wednesday.  I am a little nervous because this housekeeping visit may be coinciding with my crazy time of the month.  It’s probably best that my husband is going out of town.  I promise to be a raving lunatic by Tuesday evening, screaming and crying and cursing all of my possessions.  I do worry a little about the children.

I used to think that if I could predict something, I could at least prepare for it and minimize the impact on innocent bystanders, not to mention myself.  But so far it’s not working.

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I had an epiphany the other night.  It wasn’t really an epiphany, I guess.  It was just a moment of clarity.  Something OBL-worthy.  I am an under-credentialed woman who has been out of the workforce for more than thirteen years.  My husband is insured for a lot of money, so if he died, I’d be okay (financially speaking–personally, I’d be lonely).  If he left me for another woman, I could probably sue him for a lot of alimony and crap–but my husband 1) doesn’t meet many women in his line of work and 2) is more likely to end up in the emergency room with a guilt-induced panic attack than completing a rendezvous with a woman not his wife–so I don’t worry about this.  If he decided to become a drug addict and/or gamble our life savings away, I’d be pretty screwed–but fortunately this scenario is even less likely than the other two.  The thing is, my marriage is good–but if it weren’t good, I wouldn’t be able to leave.  I mean, I could, but…I really couldn’t.  I’d be unemployable and uninsurable (not a good combination).  It’s a very scary thought.  My husband depends on me for a lot of things, but he will never know this kind of vulnerability.  The fact is, aside from my sparkling personality, I’m replaceable–for a fee that he can easily afford.  I, on the other hand, can’t afford to replace him.  Good thing we’re not planning to replace each other.  [Insert nervous laughter]

Why is this on my mind?  Maybe because my husband and I were discussing some friends of ours whose marriage is…how shall I put this?  On the rocks.  I was going to say “in the toilet,” but that seemed disgusting, even if it is more accurate.  “On the rocks” makes it sound like a rough patch.  These are some big, sharp, pointy rocks that this marriage is on.  It would appear that the only thing keeping it together is that the wife has a chronic medical condition and the husband is too decent to leave her stranded without insurance.  That’s a sobering thought, isn’t it?  Anyway, my epiphany, or moment of clarity, was that it’s not enough to be confident that your husband’s going to stick around and take care of you.  I know, because I am confident about that, and yet there’s something about knowing that I’m just one step away from being totally screwed in a major way that just leaves me…deeply dissatisfied.

But I’m not going to read The Feminine Mystique.  I finished that crap in college.  (College–huh!  For all the good it did me.)

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Right now my daughter is watching a video called “Scooby Doo and the Reluctant Werewolf.”  Is there any werewolf who is not reluctant?  Anyone who says, “Hey, lycanthropy!  Cool!  I’ve always wanted to turn into a ravenous beast who eats people once a month”?  Anyone?

Being a werewolf seems a lot more manageable than being a vampire, though.  Do you agree?

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