Earlier this week I went to Ace and bought a snake and fixed the bathroom sink. On my knees for an hour going back and forth with the damn thing until it finally broke through. I felt a strong sense of accomplishment until today that is; after I bathed the little one and watched the bathtub drain way to slow and thought to myself “here we go again”.
It’s like masturbating. I can get the job done with no drama, no having to deal with anyone else’s issues or factors I didn’t see coming. And even though it’s convenient to just do it myself to the standards and expectations I dictate sometimes I just want to delegate it. “Make me orgasm!” dammit.
I want to not be so Linda Hamilton in Terminator all the time and be more (batting eyelashes like I want to make a wind tunnel) “Gee, honey I really don’t know. Will lipstick or thong straps help? Because I’m just a girl.” But alas, If a man were here I would be much more like Mae West probably would in this same situation “I can do this shit honey, but that’s what you’re here for💋”
All wishful thinking on my part unfortunately. That bathtub drain just ain’t gonna fix itself.