Just so you know, this post is going to contain lots of photos of cute animals even though they have nothing to do with the story.   This is due to the fact that I am sure none of you want to see pictures of people with stomach viruses or a tutorial on how to fold a T-shirt.

My Freaky Friday role reversal with the husband has been an adjustment.  While it is nice having him around and he has completed most of the earth moving projects with his toy tractor, his list of top 10 chores to be completed doesn't always match mine and I find it irritating.  When I pull into the driveway in the afternoon,  he usually emerges from the barn with a big smile on his scruffy bearded face (which is actually pretty cute)  announcing that he spent the whole day "organizing" tools or work spaces or other things I don't give a rat's ass about.  Now, if he told me he beautifully landscaped the front of the house or ripped out the wall to wall carpet in the playroom, I would be ecstatic

I am a completely disorganized control freak.  A strange combination I know, but it has gotten me through life this far. I have a system that I believe mathematicians call the Chaos Theory and the husband calls a mess.  I like to think of it as, "organic" and it usually involves having three projects going simultaneously. Spending an entire day fixated on one project is beyond me and probably has something to do with the combination of undiagnosed ADD and being a mother of three boys who need annoying things like food or splinters removed from their eyes throughout the day.

I think I am also annoyed because the husband seems to be enjoying his time at home a little too much. Given our new situation, I insisted he be responsible for laundry, emptying the dishwasher in the morning, and cleaning up the breakfast dishes. Yes, it does make sense to put ALL of the cups in the same place, but I have the little plastic juice cups and sippy bowls next to the cereal so Scrappy Doo can help himself.  And who the hell folds t-shirts in half lengthwise so you have a big crease down the front?  Has he never visited the Gap?  Ditto for his pant folding technique.

Once I sufficiently bitched about his folding inadequacies and that the socks need to be right side out and not in a ball when placed in the washing machine in order for them to get clean,  I needed something else to break the husband's domestic bliss.

Me:  "You need to change the litter box because I am working full-time and even though you just started your own business and in one month have already earned five times as much as I will this entire year, you are home more."

Husband: "No.  You said laundry and dishes and that is what I am doing."

I guess I should have started the negotiations with more grandiose demands.

On Sunday, Scrappy Doo and I came down with the stomach virus.  Unfortunately it wasn't the knock you on your ass, puking your guts out kind of virus.  It was the, feel good enough to go to work in the morning only to break out into cold sweats by lunch kind of virus that lingers for a week.

By Wednesday, James Dean had it as well and didn't go to school.  I came home to find dirty dishes in the sink, crumbs on the counter, uneaten grilled cheese sandwiches upstairs and incorrectly folded clothes in a pile to be put away, since it was established early on in husband's laundry career that he doesn't know whose clothes are whose. Boys really will put on any article clothing they find in their drawers?!  I had to explain to James Dean a couple of  times that even though he found the capri length pants he was wearing  in his pant drawer, they did indeed belong to Scrappy Doo, and Prince now knows that the size four Spiderman undies don't fit because they are not his.

I was tired and nauseous, with an added dose of PMS crazy.  I unleashed my fury on the husband with a good deal of sobbing about the chores he needed to take care of. I also pointed out that his list of priorities needed to mirror mine.  He wasn't really buying it.

I fell asleep in a cocoon of martyrdom and awoke to coffee in bed.  The counters were sparkling clean and the T-shirts folded correctly when I returned home that afternoon, plus the rock wall around my new herb garden had been started.  Crazed hysteria has its merits.

Things are definitely taking shape here at the farmette since the husband and his singular focus have been around more.  He's a pretty impressive guy and will probably have us self-sustaining within the next couple of years.  I know I am a lucky woman, but I have to admit, I am looking forward to the first, "I told you so" moment that will surely come soon after tomorrow's arrival of the first twenty-five chicks.  Love you honey!