TGHP Day 5: The Midcentury Era Thinks You Suck (And So Does Your Spouse)

Today, I really didn’t housewife it up much because the lovely Johnny Rotten and I were out shopping. I finally harangued sweet talked him into going out to look for a dining room table that ISN’T a patio set reject from before we were married, and surprise of all surprises, he not only agreed to look, but we are having a Duncan!! Phyfe!! reproduction!! from 1940ish!!! dining room set!!! delivered some time within the next week.


I guess I’m both cute and vitamin-enriched lately, because he just couldn’t resist my pleas for a real table.

So anyway, I’m 31 flavors of stoked about that, but I really didn’t do anything midcentury at all today, other than the daily tidying up that has become the norm around here. I’ll be posting photos the moment the set arrives, because YOU-GUYS-ITS-SO-PRETTY-AND-AWESOME!!!

Speaking of pretty and awesome though, did you know that you’re not? I mean, I personally think you totally are, and I mean that for each and every one of you, but the 1940s, 1950s, and 1960s would beg to differ. In fact, they’ve been meaning to talk to you about a few things.


First of all, your stocking maintenance has really been lacking lately, and you spouse can no longer admire you.


And if you aren’t serving him breakfast in bed on your knees while he’s inexplicably dressed in a suit and tie, you’re wifing so wrong.



I mean, he’s willing to be benevolent, but let’s face it, you’re pretty inept at ALL THE THINGS. Sorry to tell you, but you need to know.



Your choice of coffee is so bad, you deserve to be physically assaulted.Image

Even if you’re an outstanding cook, and your choice of coffee is superb, you’d still better not get older. Your husband won’t love you any more, and understandably so.  Girl, THAT SKIN. Stop it.


It’s not just middle aged women with middle aged skin that go unloved. If you don’t brush with the right toothpaste, 4 out of 5 dentists agree that your husband will stray.

But really, there’s one problem that’s more of a problem than the rest of your (many, many, many) problems.


You haven’t cleaned your nether regions with Lysol, and you suck as a person. More importantly, you suck as a wife.


No. He would not. In fact, it seems pretty clear that you disgust him in every single way he could ever think of, and even in a few ways he hadn’t thought of. Maybe you should go talk to your friends instead?


Just kidding. You disgust them too.


Holy cow, you guys. I need a cookie and a hug just for reading through all of those.


TGHP Day 2: I can file 90% of Today under F for Fail, or for Just Being the Facts of Life.

Today was a blur of a doodoo storm (Oh, language, Amy!)  and Im still pretty busy so rather than give a play by play, I’ll be hitting the highs and lows like a soprano and a baritone singing an offkey duet while accompanied by a chorus of fighting cats who may or may not be in heat.

The Bad:

-I scalded my right hand last night, and while it’s not a Very Awfully Terribly Grievous Injury, it affected my everything today because I was trying to protect it. I was trying to do everything left handed, and I have discovered that my left hand serves no purposes other than making me look reasonably symmetrical and being a place to put rings and bracelets. If you ever asked yourself, “Can Amy do anything at all with her non dominant hand?”, you now have an answer, and that answer is a hearty, bitter laugh right in your face for ever wondering something so ridiculously impossible.

-50’s pop music is terrible. I forced myself to listen today, and despite my saintlike patience and endurance of bad situations,  I just couldn’t take more than 90 mins. Do you know why the bad guys in horror movies always go after the lovestruck, swoony, smitten teenagers in those cheesy flicks? It’s probably because the bad guy was forced to listen to Dion and the Belmonts song “A Teenager in Love” on repeat and is trying to remove any inspiration for more songs along this vein. I get you, Movie Bad Guy. I totally get you.

dionHe knows what he did. But, alas, his self-reflection comes too late and we all have to live with the consequences.

– I tried to freshen up before Johnny Rotten got home for lunch with a lovely smelling spritz of the period-appropriate perfume White Shoulders. While the intention was good, my co-ordination with my left hand was not, and I sprayed myself directly in the mouth, leaving a tuberose and gardenia taste for hours.

whiteshouldersSmells like coziness and romance. Tastes like burning and sadness.

-An electrical outlet decided to go out with a literal bang and puff of smoke, so most of the things I had planned for today were put on hold while I investigated whether my house was actively in a state of burning down, and then waiting for an electrician. Not to worry though– all’s well, and it was a quick, inexpensive repair by a licensed professional.

Okay, enough of that. No one likes  a Debbie Downer, so here we go with the good.

– Johnny Rotten is the happiest person in the world with this housewife project, because he gets lunch. Seriously, that’s pretty much it.  If I had known it was this easy to make him so happy, I’d have done it years ago. Im not much of a lunch eater, myself, so I didn’t put a ton of priority on it. That’s not to say I was awful and actively prevented him from eating lunch, but it was hit or miss. Today, I made him a chicken salad sandwich from the leftover party loaf chicken salad mix, and he was THRILLED. I didn’t take a photo to show you, because I’m still pretty astounded that chicken salad sandwiches are that exciting to anyone. If I’m wrong, and you cannot live another day without seeing what he had for lunch, please let me know in the comments, then maybe seek help for your unhealthy interest in other people’s lunches, okay?

-I got my super awesome apron in the mail today, and it fits like a dream! It’s impossible not to be happy while I’m wearing it.

apronI’m too busy making squealy girl noises to properly caption this photo of my apron.

And speaking of little things, do you guys remember the monkeywood/podwood/acacia snacky-serving bowl things I got at the thrift store a few days ago? I didn’t take before photos, but they were incredibly grimy and scratched up. For 99 cents, they were worth trying to clean up, but I wouldn’t have paid much more for them, given the condition.

After using my new best friend Murphy Oil Soap and then butcher block conditioner, look!!


So, today. It’s been a day. But, as a wise housemother once said to me, “You take the good. You take the bad. You take them both. And there you have, the facts of life.”

Wise words indeed.