Gettin’ Dirty

Yesterday, the husband worked at digging up the small trees rooted in our flowerbeds. I sat on the porch and watched and kept him supplied with ice water.

At one point, he stopped digging, leaned on his shovel, and said, “You know, for the first time in our lives, we’re living out the divine prediction for male-female roles after the Fall.”

I cocked my head. “You mean, I’m pregnant and uncomfortable, and you’re out here toiling in the soil?”

“Yup.”

I grinned and nodded at the hole he’d dug. “How’s the toiling part workin’ out for ya?”

He grinned back. “I hate it.”

I laughed.

Fling this post into the ether of internetted winds, that it might implant itself in a bazillion other consciousnesses and hasten the onset of my world dominion. ...Wait -- did I say that out loud?Buffer this page
Buffer
Digg this
Digg
Email this to someone
email
Share on Facebook
Facebook
Flattr the author
Flattr
Tweet about this on Twitter
Twitter
Share on StumbleUpon
StumbleUpon
Share on Tumblr
Tumblr
Share on Reddit
Reddit
Pin on Pinterest
Pinterest
Share on LinkedIn
Linkedin
Share on Google+
Google+

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *