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Two Birds

Two professional women: both married with kids and both juggling clients, reports, potty training, packed lunches, chores, dogs, cats, errands, husbands and …”what was that you said? SEX?”
That three-letter word that once was so frequent, so liberating, so yummy has been sidelined in a sea of life, work and snot.
It is time.
Time to put sex back on a pedestal by injecting some extra spice into our relationships.

Two Birds

I was assigned to read The Odyssey in Mrs. Fort’s freshman English class. Like Tess of the d’Urbevilles the following year, I didn’t. That is, until I realized I had to turn in an assignment that consisted of 50 journal entries and responses about the book, which I now realize was cruel of Mrs. Fort to ask of the responder (my dutiful father, who was not in her class).  

The day before the assignment I had had weeks to do was due, I started writing mindless entries after school, spacing them on our Apple Macintosh Classic (this was before column formatting), which took HOURS. I had to get up at 4 a.m. the next morning to finish in time, during which the opening line of the “Alien 3” trailer kept going through my head as I huddled in the cold office slaving: “In a land, where the sun burns cold…” What can I say, I’ve always had a flair for both procrastination and the dramatic.

In taking a Bunny’s orders this week, I decided to call upon these amazing high school cramming abilities to double-up with an assignment from last semester, Mission 24: Chocolate. My mother-in-law gave us two boxes of Godiva truffles for Easter, which I deemed “much too good for children” a la Agatha Trunchbull, a connection I didn’t make until I discovered “Matilda” on Netflix streaming and introduced my two younger children to the magic of Roald Dahl (yes, I know, the book is better). If you’ve seen it, you’re familiar not only with the box of chocolates the Trunchbull keeps on her desk, but you are also aware of the epic chocolate cake that is Bruce Bogtrotter’s punishment – both really put me in the mood, for more chocolate. 

She would have had Mr. Lee in the chokey.

She would have had Mr. Lee in the chokey.

Over the course of the movie, I downed both boxes of truffles, cutting them every now and then with a potato chip or Cheetoh. Even with the leaded stuff, I can’t say I felt much but disgust as I put the empty boxes in the recycling bin. I’m guessing it’s a matter of tolerance – people who don’t maintain Costco-size stashes of Hershey’s Nuggets on their desk are probably more receptive to the romantic properties of the cocoa bean.

But, I wasn’t about to waste those calories. After giving my system the full opportunity to absorb any aphrodisiac effects, I forced Mr. Lee into the kennel. The kids were asleep, but in all the wrong beds because I was washing sheets, so we cleared a small spot in the toys on the only empty bed and completed the Bunny assignment just in time for me to write my journal entry.

If Mr. Lee were responding, he would surely report it would have been better without the Hot Wheels car and Hello Kitty toy digging into his knees. There’s no way I was about to put them back on the floor – I have to hold my breath to bend over, that far at least.

And even with his pain, I’m happy to say, I did successfully kill two birds with one bone. Ba-dum-tss.

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