Most husbands show their love a variety of ways. The occasional bouquet of flowers, a shiny bauble or even the impromptu picking up their shit dirty socks with out being asked.

Not my man.

No, he prefers a bolder method of announcing his love.

He buys me appliances. Now that my friends, is true love.

After seeing me stroking Karen and George and whispering sweet words of love to them countless times over how efficient the new appliances were, he decided it was time to replace several other appliances, namely our fridge, stove and deep freezer.

In his mind, appliances equal unbridled sex.

In my mind, appliances equal well, unbridled sex. (There is a reason we have been happily married for so long. This man gets me.)

Because his plans for the summer fell through and he spent the majority of it busting his ass, surrounded by other sweaty men busting their asses, instead of at home with his family, he decided to bribe pony up a few grand to add to our clan of shiny new electronic appliances.

I now have a sparkling white, energy efficient, french door, bottom pullout-freezer-drawer refrigerator; a glass top stove with convention oven that is electric blue on the inside (for all that baking I never do); and a stand up deep-freeze so that I may never again bend over and fall into our chest high freezer while searching for that last elusive package of ground beef.

He’s so thoughtful it kills me.

However, since he is out of town and the appliance dudes called to say they were on their way out with our new family members, I had a bit of a problem. How the hell was I going to get the old ones out of my house to make room for the new ones with the spagetti arms I sport? The kids would be of no assistance, a strong wind could blow them away. I was on my own with no muscle in site to lend a hand.

I did what any good wife would do.

I called up Boo to whine about my hardship. He, however, was unsympathetic.

“Just ask the delivery guys to move them for you.”

No shit sherlock. Like I hadn’t thought of that. “Thanks Boo, but when they called for directions this morning, the lady clearly stated it wasn’t in the men’s job description to remove old appliances, just bring in the new ones.”

Like, duh.

“Well, I guess you’re scewed. Listen, I’ve gotta go. Someone is on fire and we want to stand around and roast marshmallows while we wait for the rescue team to arrive.”

“Wow. You really are helpful today. Have fun with that.” Asshole. Since he was about as interested in my dilemma as he was in tweezing my nose hairs, I wandered into my closet and thought to myself, how would a resourceful, pathetically weak, with no one to call, woman solve this problem?”

The answer was folded up neatly on the top shelf.

The purple shirt.

Aha!

Noting the time, I quickly ran to the bathroom, shook out my hair and gave it a good brushing, slapped on some blush, dug through my mound of folded, yet still-not-put-away clothing and pulled out my secret weapon.

Shrugging into the slightly ill-fitting, yet surprisingly flattering white pushup bra, I grabbed the purple shirt and tossed it on just as the delivery truck was beeping it’s way up my driveway.

Praying I wouldn’t scar my kids for life, I figured I had two options. First option, I could pretend to be in a delicate condition. Men are suckers for knocked up chicky, stuck in the woods with out a big, strapping man to help her out.

If that didn’t work, I’d use plan B.

I’d push up the girls and bat my eyelashes. After all, what good are newly grown guns if they can’t get a few men to move some heavy, old appliances for her?

One step closer to living like a true hillbilly…

I do feel a little bad. My darling bird Lester decided to pull a Houdini and escape his cage. Before I could catch him he landed on one of the men’s shoulders and took a dump.

He wasn’t amused.

Secretly, I was. But only after wishing the earth would open up and swallow me. As I blushed with mortification, my fucking, soon to have his feathers plucked bird chirped happily and then squeezed between his birdcage bars, safe from my grasp to have a laugh on the stupid humans.

After wishing me and the kids well while staring at my cleavage, the men climbed into their big truck to go deliver more appliances like manna from heaven. As the kids were hauling the boxes off into the woods to go make a fort, the phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Did you get the appliances moved, darlin?” I could hear the sound of money being made in the background as Boo spoke.

“Sure did. And the new appliances are soooo pretty. I can’t wait to rub them.”

“Anything to make you happy sugar. Just remember who your daddy is when I get home.”

“Oh that won’t be hard to forget. It has to be the appliance dude. Even our bird, Lester, loved him.”

“Very funny. Did you have any problems getting them to move the old appliances for you?”

“Nah. It was easier than I thought.”

“Really. How’d you manage that?” I could tell he was really curious now. “Did you offer them favours?

“No funny man. They were charmed by me and my natural assets.”

“You mean you had your boobs hanging out.”

“Yep. A girl has to do what a girl has to do.”

“Harumph.” Apparently, he didn’t like this too much.

“Don’t worry Boo. I wore the purple shirt. They thought I was knocked up. They felt sorry for me, what with two wild children, a festering bird and no man in sight. They were just being kind. Suckers.” Snicker.

“You’re horrible.”

“Yah, but I’m horrible with three spanky new appliances and the old ones out on the deck. I think I may have to wear this shirt and wander around town looking for buyers who need slightly used, old appliances for cheap.”

“I’m gonna burn that shirt when I get home.”

“Ah honey. I love you too.”