in which the women's movement fails me

First, the update I know you’re all dying to hear: I’m still not pregnant. But I have started taking my temperature every morning to give this whole ovulation-charting thing a test run, so that’s bound to be exciting. Nothing like a read-out on a thermometer to get one in the mood for sweet lovin’ with one’s spouse. Haaaa.

We had more septic tank problems over the weekend, which I won’t write about it in detail because I’m sure y’all are sick to death of hearing about it. The happy part is that it didn’t cost us anything because Dave fixed it himself. The infuriating part: apparently the last time the repair people were here, when we dropped a couple of grand on getting a whole new pump? The technician forgot to turn the damn system back on when he was finished. Luckily we discovered it before it flooded into the house again. And now we know how long we can go with a completely shut-down system before all the tanks are full (about 6 weeks). Which I suppose is useful information to have. But we were both pretty enraged that the dude didn’t even think to flick the power switch to “on” before he left. I’m going to get Dave to call and file a complaint – usually I’m better at that (we have a pretty nice “good cop/bad cop” routine; he’s the polite Brit, I’m the rude American), but I think that in male-dominated industries like that one, they just might take it more seriously if it comes from a man. Plus, Dave can be calmly angry whereas I’d probably just lose my mind and start screaming about what a bleeping bleep-for-brains bleep-head their technicians are. Only without the self-censorship.

Ok, enough of the rage. Total change of topic: on Saturday night, Dave and I watched “Rosemary’s Baby”, which neither of us had seen before. Very odd movie. Some of it was totally campy – I giggled at things that I’m pretty sure were supposed to be serious. I didn’t think it was all that scary, although the idea of messing with a pregnant woman really bothered me. (Hmm, wonder why I’m sensitive to that?) But mostly I was annoyed with Mia Farrow’s character for being so damn passive. What can I say, my feminist side got all riled up over a movie that was made in 1968. I’m silly that way.

I just realized that I claimed my feminism in a paragraph immediately following one in which I said that I thought people listened to my husband more than they listened to me. Hmmm… hypocrisy, anyone?

In fellow blogger news, The Boy Davis is vacationing at our humble home this week, which is fun since he and Dave are old friends and haven’t seen each other for a few years. Don’t ask me why anyone would voluntarily opt for a vacation in Duvall, but hey, maybe he really likes farm animals and depressingly bleak weather? Those are things we seem to have in abundance. (I know the weather situation is temporary, but god! Enough with the rain already!)

Anyway, I’m trying to hide out and leave them to have lots of male-bonding time. (See the anti-feminism flaring up again? Where does this come from?) This might even turn out to be the week that I finally catch up on all the shows I’ve DVR’ed over the last few months. Season 2 of “Lost,” here I come!

9 thoughts on “in which the women's movement fails me

  1. Balancing the desire to be accepted equally, to receive fair pay, and to enjoy equality in your professional life against your ability to recognize that there are times when it is easier to let your “male half” do the dirty work does not put you in conflict.

    Don’t sweat it. We’ve still got a long way to go, and if we waste all of our time fighting the small fights, we won’t have any energy left for the one’s that matter.

    Hee, hee. I’m the “bad cop” in my relationship, too! It works out so much better being a team!

  2. I found Rosemary’s Baby to be profoundly scary and disturbing (I saw it for the first time not long ago). Scariest/most disturbing: Rosemary’s shitty husband.

  3. The guy who played Rosemary’s husband apparently had only played good guys before that movie, and my mom said that was what made it all the more shocking at the time. But yes, he was an ass. I kind of knew I hated him from the first scene, but every subsequent scene just confirmed it even more.

    Really though, it bothered me more that she *let* him boss her around like he was her father. I kept yelling at the TV that she needed to get a spine and stand up for herself, or to leave town and get the hell away from him. Just do SOMETHING! I hated how passive she was, it drove me nuts.

  4. My parents have a septic tank and I can’t tell you how horrible it was to grow up with that. I have lost count of all the times it was broken and we had to go to the hospital to shower.

    The best part is that it would back up into the basement. Yummy!

  5. Ok, yes, the whole idea of selling your wife’s womb to advance your career is pretty disgusting. I can’t argue with that.

    Isabel, I can one-up you. The area we live in is technically considered to be wetlands, so we have no basement. When our septic system backs up (like it did last month), it ends up in the downstairs bathroom & into the front hall. Whee!

  6. hey — weird that you just saw rosemary’s baby — i just saw it for the first time a few months ago. you know i hate scary movies, so i was just waiting for something to scare me enough to turn it off, but it was just generally creepy and annoying, not scary per se — so i watched the whole thing.

    interesting note — and part of what made me intrigued to watch it — is that the building they moved into is the dakota, of john lennon-shooting fame. (yoko still lives there.) i was curous to see what the inside of it was like since i’ve only passed the outside — pretty creepy/cool, actually.

  7. I didn’t know that was the Dakota, they call it something else in the movie. Weird.

    Lauren: I know, and I have NO IDEA how I showed up on the Manolo’s blogroll. Maybe because I link to him? I do feel suitably honored, though.

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