As you may remember, I quit my job at the end of March. If you don’t remember, or if you’ve forgotten, I’m sure you’ll want the backstory, so you can read about that here. For those of you who don’t give a shit and want me to get on with it, jeez…a bit pushy are we? Anyway, as part of my job-quitting experiment, I’ve been working from home throughout April.
Having traveled to my place of work for the entirety that I have worked, working from home has been an interesting experience. Rather than take the route my roommate (who also works from home) takes and spend 90% of the day in my PJs (I’m not judging, it totally works for him), I took the advice of this article and have been waking up in the mornings, showering, and getting dressed. I then split my time between doing work stuff, and doing tasks around the apartment.
If this experiment has taught me one thing, it’s that I could totally get used to this kind of life. So my new life goal is to find a gal who’s comfortable being the bread-winner of the family. Now I’m not saying I’m a goldigger (but I ‘aint messin with no broke…ahem…persons). I mean don’t get me wrong, what I’m suggesting is not that I just mooch off of my (undoubtedly hot) wife. I understand that being a house-husband isn’t all tea sandwiches, book clubs, and soaps (which, incidentally, might not be around that much longer). But what I’ve found is that I have a particular set of skills, except that instead of murdering people, I’m handy around the house. I know:
- All the settings on a washing machine
- That secret laundry-folding trick
- Cleaning a bathroom so it sparkles (the trick is to put glitter in the spray bottle of Fantastik)
- Organizing a cupboard
- Dusting (got to get the baseboards…small detail that makes a huge difference!)
- Buying and storing groceries (as soon as you get home, portion and freeze)
- Fixing random things around the house (it’s a family tradition called the Fischer Technique, and it involves lots of duct tape)
- Pet care
- How to keep a plant (mostly) alive
- And, the all-important vacation planning, for a relaxing yet adventurous trip remembered for years to come
Hell, I even look good wearing a dress, apron and heels while doing said tasks, thanks to killer calves and what has been called a “cute butt” (What? What do you wear for household chores?).
But aside from being genetically predisposed to being a house-husband (as well as crying at tender moments), my main reason for wanting this lifestyle is just the sheer amount of time you gain in the day. When done correctly, it’s amazing how super-productive you can be (think about how much easier getting work done is when there’s no one there to ask you about TPS reports). Even with all the chores that need to be done, the actual work that I have to do, AND a solid afternoon nap (I keep it to 20 minutes, obviously, I’m no amateur), by the time I put the metaphorical pencil down (who actually still uses a pencil??), it’s only around 5-6pm. Which is when most people are done with their workday, but still may have to go home and take care of some stuff around the house. Or they don’t take care of anything, and have to use their weekend to get caught up. One of the most profound things my Mom ever said was that we should have an extra day in the week. OK, she’s said much more profound things than that, but it is a pretty damn ingenious idea. That way, you have one day to do all the things you didn’t do during the week, which allows you a true weekend to kick back, relax, do a couple of shots of tequila, and pass out in a hammock (i.e. the American Dream). But me, I can do all the tequila-shooting and hammock-passing-out I want every single night, thanks to the house-husband lifestyle. Except for the fact that I don’t do shots of tequila (things don’t end well when I do), and I don’t have a hammock (I mean a non-banana one).
The one caveat that I will make is that this in no way includes becoming a stay-at-home dad. Eff that noise. I’ve seen Mr. Mom. There are some hilarious hijinks that will ensue, sure. The comedic gold of going to the grocery store for the first time is almost worth it. Battling the vacuum would be fun. And then when the other housewives try to cheer me up by taking me to a male stripclub…yeah that was definitely an 80’s movie.
Look, I have nothing against kids. My point is that while I don’t mind playing with kids, I don’t mind playing with kids for small pockets of time. Having to deal with them for the entire day…well let’s just say I know my kids would be playing outside a lot from an early age. Now if you’ll excuse me, I heard the oven timer go off, which means I need to take the cookies out of the oven.
