Warrior Queen Builds A Stool

Recently, WQ has awoken most mornings with a very stiff and, more to the point, very painful arthritic ankle.  She immediately fires up the heating pad and finds that it soothes the pain enough to get on with her other activities of the day. 

Unfortunately, there were a few days when the pain did not abate in time for her to go to work.  It was on days like this when WQ stays home, does not venture out of the house, and does not bathe.

I can’t fault her logic of not wanting to bathe on days when she won’t have to face the rest of the world.  I do it myself, but usually no longer than one day.  This time the ankle pain added another element to her logic: it was simply too painful to stand long enough to shower properly.

Fine, but after a few days even my chronic post-nasal congestion cannot mask my discomfort with living with an unbathed WQ for more than a few days.

Amazon to the rescue!  The retail web site was shopped for a shower stool which WQ could use to sit in the bathtub and shower in a comfortable sitting position.  One was found to WQ’s liking and ordered.  It arrived yesterday and WQ immediately set to work on her weekend “butch project”.

First, she read the instructions, an action which is apparently only performed by human beings of her gender.  Males know that reading instructions for anything is anathema and likely to cause banishment from The Man Club.

Naturally, I have to endure her lording over me the fact that she read the instructions and constructed the stool without cursing or shouting epithets to the Lord Almighty.  As a life long member of the male gender, I hasten to point out to her that sometimes taking the Lord’s name in vain while involved in any construction project is a vital, nay necessary, component of the endeavor.  WQ responded by sticking her tongue out in my general direction.  Apparently, we will agree to disagree on this point for some time to come.

And voila, le stool:

After the project is finished, I also have to endure several minutes of WQ walking around on her (still sore) ankle chanting over and over “I’m butch!  I’m butch! I’m butch!”

One wonders if another person now residing in the White House also recites this same chant to himself.  Which reminds me:  I wish to send a heartfelt greeting to the President of the United States:

“May the Bluebird of Amazon deliver unto you a pair of bracelets linked together by a lock and chain suitable for cuffing your tiny wrists after criminal prosecution…and soon.” 

(Thank you for reading.  And please, Bluebird of Amazon, make this delivery very, very soon.)