In the doghouse, in NYC

My husband and child are putting up ads for a new mother. Husband requests someone who is not only gorgeous and brilliant (like me), but also will pick up son from school three times per week, occasionally do the dishes, and scrub toilets regularly. A light sleeper would be nice, so that he could occasionally sleep through child's late night crying while the other spouse deals with it. (It's tough being the lighter sleeper in a relationship. So I'm told.)

Son requests a mother who will read to him at bedtime, cuddle him after a nightmare, and make sure he brushes his teeth thoroughly every night.

Oh, husband would like someone to make sure son brushes teeth thoroughly, too.

The reason they are advertising for a new mother is that I am a neglectful mother. I am in NYC at a conference and they are home alone. Husband reports that son has been waking up crying every night. Husband is feeling abused. Is filing divorce proceedings. Wife (that's me) hopes he doesn't go through with divorce, because she doesn't expect to find anyone sexier than husband in this lifetime, but realizes that husband has good reasons and the judge would probably side with him.

Meanwhile, NYC is cool and rainy -- at least it was for those couple of minutes I was outside, between leaving the building in which the conference is being held and walking to the nearby Asian restaurant for lunch/dinner and then walking back to the conference and/or my room.

In two days, I have eaten at Korean, Chinese, Thai, and Korean (a different place). Surely there is more than Asian food within walking distance in a city like this? Tomorrow, if I must, I will branch out on my own in search of... Greek? Italian? Anything eaten without chopsticks. Except bagels. Because bagels are on the breakfast menu every day this week and next.

I am staying right here in Manhattan, and my room costs only $80 per night. How, you ask, did I find such a deal? It is a dorm room -- conference housing. At least I have my own bathroom. That's worth $20 of the $80.

The ADA bathroom has two drains. One in the shower, and a larger one outside the shower. Don't underestimate that large drain. Most of the water from the shower is apparently meant to run out into the middle of the bathroom first before making its way into the sewer pipes. My pajamas didn't realize this when they were left in a lump outside the shower, as usual, yesterday morning. After the shower they were soaked. Which meant I was cold last night.

Oh woe is me. Wet pajamas, too much Asian food, and family filing for divorce for neglect.

And I haven't yet finished writing my talks for the conference.

This post ends here.

Footnote 1: You will see in my blog many examples in which I show myself to be an inferior (fill in your favorite blank here). (Some possibilities from this post are: mother, wife, conference participant, fairy princess, etc.) Please learn from my example.

Footnote 2: Timmy, if you will not divorce me, I promise never to agree to attend another three-week conference until Jonathan is grown up and my colleagues are ready to eat Mexican food. And I will scrub all the toilets when I return and do the dishes for three weeks straight and all you have to do is poke me and I'll even take over the late night bad dream cuddling. I promise. And just because it's a run on sentence doesn't mean I'm not sincere.