Why having a vagina is the bane of my existence.

Well, its been a helluva few days. The car has started doing something I am sure is bad. The wheels are all flumpy bumpy like one of them is going flat but none of them are. This makes me afraid to drive it. But I don't have another car because my other car caught fire last summer so, if I have to go somewhere, its either drive the scary car or take the bus.

The washing machine went to hell on me the night before last. My kitchen flooded and the only thing I could do was take the six loads of dirty laundry that were waiting to be washed and dump them all into the floor to soak it up. I don't own a shop vac. Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck. So, now its been three days and I'm finally done washing the WET clothes, but there are another six loads of laundry piled up waiting for me. Suck my balls.

The thing that chaffes my ass is this - If I had a dick, I just KNOW someone would have taught me how to fix that washing machine AND the car. But I don't have one. I got told "Girls don't do that" all my fucking life. Its gotten to be so that every time I think of vagina I think of weaknesses and shortcomings. Except for when I was a teenager and my boyfriend taught me how to drive. He also taught me how to tune up my own car and adjust the idle on my own carburator. Why? Because he didn't think having a dick meant he should have to do it for me. Ergo, if he taught me to do it myself, he didn't have to do it for me later. He was sort of a dickface but also sort of a genius.

So, a friend of mine reminds me that a penis already lives here. The one I happened to be married to, but he can't fix it. Of course he is known to look at something and decide it is just too hard and give up on it. As am I. The suckiest part of all is that, now I have to wash all those clothes by hand in a sink or bathtub before they mildew and funk up my house. Where is the justice? The car isn't working right, the washer goes bad and the kitchen is flooded which leaves me washing laundry by hand. My husband, while agreeable enough when asked to help me do most things, rarely volunteers or even thinks to do such things himself. (I don't think its malicious or anything, it just seems like he hasn't really grown out of his bachelor ways even after four years together). So, I am writhing, seething, twitching with anger and disgust at it all.

Ugh