We had just finished lunch. The kids were quietly playing in the TV room. Since we were scheduled to travel the next day, I started doing laundry. In general, I find housework, including its components, mundane and boring. As such, I decided to fold the clothes in front of a TV show, the British series called Doc Martin. It’s set in an idyllic village and according to one reviewer has: “no swearing, nudity, or lewdness.”
The first two seasons hardly had a kissing scene. I felt safe watching the next one with the gals in the room. Episode 2 of season three started with an underage girl asking the village doctor for a morning after pill. Their conversation ended with “you are too young to have sex.” I decided to stop it, skip over the next one just in case they were related and move to one after. In episode 4, the doc’s 70-year-old aunt is diagnosed with osteoporosis. The girls asked me about osteoporosis and I explained it. What an educational show. On her way out of the doctor’s office, the aunt sees a painter working on the windowpane and asks if he would come over and paint her kitchen.
By now, I finished folding the darks pile. Next, they showed the painter at the aunt’s house asking her to sit for him. Apparently he was an artist who painted houses for money. We are taken to a restaurant scene before being back at the aunt’s house with the old lady and the young painter going at it on the kitchen table, pants at ankles. She was sitting on the table while he stood facing her, thrusting his pelvis forward and back slowly, appropriate for a comedy show. What the… Beet red, I turned the TV off.
H2: “why did you turn it off? “
Me: Well the volume was too loud.” Even a two-year-old could have a comeback for a volume issue and H2 is six. Come on Bahar, pull it together.
H2: “What was he doing? When he said he wanted to paint her, did he mean paint her on a paper or paint HER?”
H1 looked at her from the corner of her eye. Their dad was Not taking this one on.
Me, still flummoxed: “Um. Paint her.”
What did I just say?
H2: “Yes but why was he going like this?” And while seated she proceeded to demonstrate by moving her upper body forward and back.
Me: Give her the first answer that comes to your mind. “He was fixing her table.”
Awesome. Fixing tables and painting now have completely new meanings for this poor child.
That’s right Bahar. How?
Me: Seeing the incredulous look on H1’s face and knowing she knew, I gave it another try: “Actually, he likes her so he’s getting really close to her,” change the subject. Quickly. “Ok girls. Here are your piles of clothes. Two piles. One for mom’s and one for here. Why don’t you take them to your rooms.”
Do you see why I hate housework? It is useless, repetitive, and leads to sex disasters when you want to numb your brain to complete it.