Home Alone

The lengths some guys will go to please their wives.

The lengths some guys will go to please their wives.

As I’ve written in pervious posts, I’m a filthy slob of a husband. So when my wife took the baby and went on a mini-vacation to see her family in the south and left me home alone, I knew it was a trap so she could come back and yell at me for how messy the house was.

So I did what I publicly advocated for; I hired a maid.

Problem was, I had the maid come a day after my wife left… and she would be gone for another 4 days.


Imagine Hurricane Sandy meets the worst imaginable episode of Hoarders. That’s how bad it can get.

So the last thing I wanted to do was waste the money I had spent on a maid in the subsequent days before my wife returned. I’ve gone to great lengths to avoid being in the house for any extended period of time. Mostly because there is a direct correlation between how long I stay in the house and how messy the house gets. So if I’m not in the house, it can’t get dirty, right?

So that’s when I had the brilliant idea to live in the backyard until my wife returns from her mini-vacation. Sure, I may lose a few toes because it gets so cold outside at night, but what’s the loss of a few extremities if it prevents the ire of my spouse? It’s totally worth it!

I’m not going to lie, it’s been fairly difficult. This is some shit that Survivalist Bear Grylls couldn’t even do. Which by the way, did you know that Bear Grylls has a Twitter account? If you’re tweeting about surviving in the depths of the wild, you’re probably not that far in the wilderness if you can still get a signal on your iPhone. I mean, I live in a suburb of Indianapolis and I can’t get a signal on my iPhone at times, just to keep things in perspective.

Let’s just be honest here, I’ve been living outside for a few days. I don’t think my neighbors are too thrilled with that. It might be the collection of trash in my back yard. It might be the potentially dangerous fires I’ve been making in a small metal bucket. It might also be the fact that I’ve been taking a shit into plastic bags and blindly throwing them into our neighbor’s yards. I haven’t figured out exactly what has made them all so angry, but I’ve narrowed it down to those three things.

But it’s not like I’ve totally reverted to primitive life. It’s not like I’m killing small animals and cooking them on my small metal bucket fires for food. That would be silly! There aren’t any small animals running around right now! It’s mid-February! They’re all still hibernating.

So instead, I’ve been living off of shitty delivery food since I’ve moved my residence outside. But there are problems with eating shitty delivery food for that long; specifically eating that much fast food has taken a toll on my digestive system. Considering the damage the fast food has had on my bowels, that makes my plastic-bag shitting sessions that much more painful (complete with grunting and screaming) and increased the frequency of which I must take a shit. It’s a deadly combination for me, equivalent to early pioneers contracting dysentery as they moved further west towards Oregon.

But like I said, it’ll all be worth it if my wife comes home to a clean house. The look on her face when she sees how immaculately clean our house is will be all the joy I need to forget that I should probably go to the hospital to have my frost-bitten leg removed.

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