Simpsons DVDs (With Commentary), Feminism, and Under The Sink

So I'm coming to the end of my winter vacation, what I hailed last Friday as the best perk of being a teacher.  On my week off I've gotten a chance to do some cool things.  I saw That Championship Season on Broadway and had dinner with my mom at Pig 'N Whistle the other day.  I did lunch and happy hour a couple of times with girlfriends.  I went thrift shopping in Greenpoint yesterday after having lunch with my grandpa.  I got to spend some time with my nephews, too, and last night Dave and I went for sushi at Bay Ridge Sushi (all you can eat!)  However, don't get mad at me when I say this, especially those of you who aren't teachers, but I just may--POSSIBLY--be getting a little bored.  Before you jump down my throat and say, "Well, why don't you go to work for me, then?!" please understand that I'm not complaining, just making an observation based on these clear cut signs:

• I'm eagerly waiting for the mail to arrive.  My mom told me this happened to her when she became a stay-at-home mom.
• I've been watching a marathon of VH1's reality show You're Cut Off all day, a show about spoiled girls who are suddenly financially responsible for themselves--and it isn't the first time I've seen these episodes.  Sample dialogue: "Tires are expensive.  And I have like, four of them."
• I'm refreshing my facebook page every five minutes.  People's statuses (stati?) about what they ate for breakfast or the mold they cleaned out of their refrigerator are extremely intriguing. 
• I'm watching Simpsons DVDs with the commentary on.  Go ahead, call me a geek, but sometimes finding out the story of how an episode was created can be really interesting.  Really.  You'll have to trust me.

Needless to say, none of these things are particularly productive.  I mean, it's not like I've been home all week trying to disprove the theory of relativity.  (I don't know if that would be productive either, since I really have no clue what the theory of relativity is or what it applies to.  But you get the idea--I've basically been a bum.)  And now that the sun is coming out after raining all morning, I'm feeling even more like a couch potato.  What is it about these sunny, fifty-five degree days in February that make you feel like you're a waste of space if you choose to stay indoors?  Anyway, I was looking for more productive things to do earlier today, so I asked Dave over the phone if there was anything he thought needed to be done around the house.  "How about cleaning out Under The Sink?" he suggested.  No, the capitalization is not a typographical error.  You'll see why in a minute.

"Got anything else?" I pleaded.  I was terrified of Under The Sink.  I will be frank with you; we live in New York.  In an apartment.  Next to the building's garbage cans.  Therefore, we have a mouse.  For the purposes of this blog, I will affectionately refer to him as Mickey, even though I want to crush his cranium every time I see him. Under The Sink is where Mickey roams.  I've heard him in there, rustling around in all our paper goods.  You would think my hearing Mickey would send me into the kitchen with a baseball bat, but actually it sends me in the opposite direction.  Dave says I'm in denial when it comes to Mickey.  I pretend he doesn't exist.  (The mouse, not Dave.)

 I've never understood why people, women in particular, are so afraid of mice.  I don't mean that to be sexist; I'm certainly no exception.  Feminism aside, and despite all the progress we've made since the Nineteenth Amendment, show me a woman who doesn't scream at the surprise sight of a mouse and I'd like to shake her hand.  Well, it serves me right for asking if anything needed to be done.  No good deed goes unpunished.   But I suppose it's not a good deed if it's done in your own house, just like when you're taking care of your own kids you can't call it babysitting.  So I decided to get down and dirty and deal with Mickey.  Under The Sink.

I took out everything we stored in Under The Sink (and threw out a lot of stuff, too).  So far, no Mickey.  I breathed a sigh of relief, until I saw what Mickey had left behind.  I won't stoop to the level of toilet humor; I'll let you use your imagination.  After cleaning up Mickey's, ahem, deposit, I started washing and replacing the stuff I had taken out.  In the process, I started to realize something: I was actually kind of upset that I wasn't able to spot Mickey.  I wanted to catch him, dispose of him, and show Dave what I'm really made of.  Not like your typical wife--me--who would go screaming in the opposite direction.  I faced my fear of Under The Sink.  And I survived!  Maybe I did manage to do something productive on my last official day off (weekends don't count; you have those off anyway).  In addition to tidying up Under The Sink, I was a little less afraid of Mickey. 

And if I can survive Under The Sink, could Behind The Toilet be far off? 

Website for Bay Ridge Sushi (3 Ave between Bay Ridge Avenue and Ovington Ave):
http://www.bayridge-sushi.com/

Pig 'N Whistle (there are several locations, but the one we went to was on West 47 btwn 6 Ave and 7 Ave):
http://www.pignwhistlets.com/

Fox and Fawn (thrift shop in Greenpoint; Manhattan Ave off Driggs):
http://foxandfawn.blogspot.com/
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