Independent woman, my ass!

I like to think of myself as an independent woman. A 21^st century gal. To quote Aretha Franklin: a sister doing it for herself. Truth be told, I am anything but independent. Like the millions of unenlightened women before me, all I really want is a man to take care of me. Not financially, I work my butt off everyday accomplishing that task. That I can handle. What I need is someone to take care of the little things. Those odd duties that traditionally belong to men and that I would rather not have to deal with.

Here is a perfect example of what I am talking about. I was working at my desk the other day when I noticed a wasp sitting about 8 inches away from me. I screamed like a schoolgirl and then sat there frozen, staring at the creature. My boss looked up from his paperwork, walked over to my desk, smacked the wasp with his bare hand and casually went back to his office while I breathed a sigh of relief. THAT is exactly what I need! Someone who is willing to ride up on his white horse and rescue me from the mundane yet annoying events of life.

I became convinced that I needed a man in my life when I tried to change the battery in my smoke detector. I have yet to find the compartment it goes in. Clearly, the evidence suggests that I need someone in my life. If not a man, then an attendant.

I have never wanted to be married more than when I discovered a dead mouse on my patio. I practically fell to my knees and begged God to send me a husband that very minute. After several moments had passed and with no Prince Charming in sight, I was forced to don a makeshift HAZMAT uniform and scoop the dead rodent up myself, cursing my singlehood all the while.

Such actions do not befit dainty southern belles like me. I have not been taught to handle these kinds of situations. My training consisted of learning to bat my eyelashes and fan myself in such a way as to entice men to do my bidding. It makes for me being a much happier albeit less liberated woman.