Waiting For A Man

If you see me driving my new car, you’ll notice that I have yet to put the license plates on it.

Because the last thing I want to do is be outside in this weather, close to the ground, using a screwdriver (a size I’m not sure I own anyway), putting the license plates on.

It’s not that I can’t do it; it’s that I don’t want to do it. In my mind, it’s a man’s job.

If I had a man in my life I would smile sweetly at him and ask him if he could please do me a favor and put my license plates on. It would only take five minutes.

It would also only take me five minutes, but again, I don’t want to.

On the other hand, I also didn’t want to fix the leaky faucet last week, shovel the sidewalks yesterday, scrape off my car every morning, and take the trash out. Because those are man’s jobs. I’m realizing now how spoiled I was in high school when Dad scraped my windshield everyday (and even started up my car most days). And not that every man does these chores for their women (I could hardly believe it when a married friend of mine said that she shovels the sidewalks! The look I gave her must have screamed “get your MAN to do that!”), but these are the chores that totally annoy me and I would love for a man to take care of.

So, in protest of being single, I refuse to put my license plates on. Wait – can I get a ticket for that?

*SIGH*

Well, I’m going to hold out at least one more week for a man….