A husband drove home from a long day at the office, completely unprepared for the absolute war zone waiting for him in his own driveway.
As he pulled up, he was greeted by his three children. They were still in their pajamas at 5:00 PM, covered from head to toe in thick mud, happily playing in the front yard. The grass was heavily littered with empty juice boxes, crushed potato chip bags, and candy wrappers. His wife’s car door was wide open, the front door to the house was swinging in the breeze, and the family dog was nowhere to be found.
Panic instantly set in. He rushed inside, only to find the interior looking like a tornado had touched down. A living room lamp lay smashed on its side, the area rug was crumpled against the far wall, and the television was blasting cartoons at maximum volume. The floor was an obstacle course of plastic toys, stray socks, and inside-out jeans.
He ran into the kitchen, his heart hammering against his ribs. The sink was overflowing with a mountain of crusty dishes, milk and cereal were splattered across the counters, the refrigerator door stood wide open, dog kibble was scattered across the floor like confetti, and a shattered glass lay untouched under the table.
Terrified that his wife had been kidnapped or severely injured, he bolted upstairs, frantically vaulting over more piles of laundry.
As he reached the top landing, he noticed a steady trickle of water creeping out from under the bathroom door. He peeked inside and gasped: wet towels were piled like sandbags, soggy toilet paper was unrolled in miles of chaos across the floor, and toothpaste had been used to paint abstract murals on the mirror and walls.
Fearing the absolute worst, he burst into the master bedroom.
There, tucked snugly under the covers in her favorite silk pajamas, was his wife. She was completely relaxed, peacefully reading a romance novel. She looked up, gave him a warm, radiant smile, and asked, “Hi honey! How was your day at work?”
The husband stood frozen in the doorway, hyperventilating and utterly bewildered. “What… what happened here today? Are you okay?!”
She smiled sweetly, turned the page of her book, and said, “You know how every single evening when you come home from work, you look around and ask me, ‘What on earth do you even do all day?'”
“Yes…” the husband stammered, clutching his chest.
“Well,” she sighed contentedly, “today, I didn’t do it.”
