Thank Heavens I Wasn't Alive in 1956

My FIL sent me this. There's a Caterpillar plant up in his neck of the woods, so I'm not at all surprised that he was able to get his hands on this. It's from the Caterpillar employees magazine circa 1956. As soon as I saw it, I knew I had to post it on the blog. Because people, they were SERIOUS. Not satire. Serious. Anyway, after I read it, I was so shocked that WORDS ACTUALLY FAILED ME (for a moment anyway).

Luckily I have since recovered, so I am now sharing it with you also. (Click on it to make it big enough to read the captions). Feel free to follow this heartfelt advice as closely as I have:
It is actively helpful if the wife gets up and prepares breakfast before he goes to work. If I'm up before Tony goes to work, it's because I haven't gone to bed yet. However, in an attempt to be more helpful to my husband, I have decided to start leaving the following note taped to two quarters:

Dear hubby,
Here is fifty cents so that you can have a wonderful breakfast. Please use it to buy that package of stale Dunkin' Stix out of the vending machine at work. Have a nice day, and try not to disturb me since I only went to bed about thirty minutes ago.

Your loving wife.

Give him something to look forward to when he returns home.
We kind of have a self-service philosophy when it comes to dinner. He does his thing and I do mine. Sometimes they happen to be the same thing, but that's usually because one of us fixed something for ourselves and the other one just poached.

Dear hubby, when you get home tonight, you can look forward to having a delicious meal of whatever you decide to pull out of the freezer and pop in the microwave for yourself. I will be at girls night out having two-for-one margaritas.

PS- The cats will probably be very excited to see you. Can you scoop the litter box? Also, one of them barfed something up all over the floor. Don't step in it.

Your Loving Wife

Keep the house looking orderly.
Ah-ha! I do this! I tend to be the one to vacuum. Mostly. Sometimes. When I think about it. To be fair, I did tell him before he ever married me that I was a lousy housekeeper, and if he wanted cleaned dishes and scrubbed toilets, he better get used to doing it. He was completely forewarned.

Dear hubby. Please remove your crap from the living room. I cannot have the robotic vacuum do its thing if your stuff is everywhere. When you're through picking up, hit the start button on the Roomba. Thanks.

Your Loving Wife

Have Your Husband's Clothes Ready.
I don't even think we own an iron. (Wait! Wait! Not true! I use it to heat seal the wood finish to the furniture I make. I can probably say that it has never touched an article of clothing though). Also? We take turns with laundry duty. He does it whenever he runs out of things to wear, and I do it when I just don't feel like going out to buy new clothes while waiting on him to run out of things to wear.

Dear hubby. It is your turn to do the laundry. Remember that the Downy spray-on wrinkle releaser is under the counter in the bathroom. Just put my folded clothes on top of the dresser. Kisses!


Your Loving Wife

Reserve the bathroom.
Luckily, we each have our own separate bathroom so this is not a problem for us. I use the master, and he uses the one down the hall. That way he can visit his bathroom whenever the spirit (or bean burrito) moves. Come to think of it, that may be the major secret to our continued marital bliss.

Dear hubby. Ye gods man! What did you eat?!? I can smell that all the way down the hall! Next time you do that, take it to the gas station down the street.

Your Loving Wife

Final Impressions last longest.
Of course, being the loving wife that I am, I do attempt to take a shower before Tony gets home each day. And I only wear the rattiest pair of pajama bottoms with the paint splatters on the leg when my other pairs are dirty (see above where it's your turn to do laundry, sweetheart). Make-up though? Combing the hair? They must be insane.

Dear hubby,
Remember that tonight is aerobics class night. I'll be home late, and smelling like a sweaty gym sock to boot. Maybe a whole bunch of sweaty gym socks. You may want to Febreeze the house in preparation. XOXO!

Your Loving Wife

It's a good thing that I came after the years of bra burning feminism. No one would have ever married me in 1956. In 2010 though? Dear Hubby thanks his lucky stars that he has me.


Natalie said...

You & me both.. You would not believe the crap I have to hear from my mother about how I need to do this & do that. And the shock at how he actually cooks dinner!
I'm pretty sure I would not be married if I were the same person when the article was written.

Natalie said...

Doesn't apply to you, but at my house.. I dont' consider it babysitting when their father is the one watching them. My grandmother, on the other hand, is amazed that a man would actually watch his own children while I got out with friends.

Quirky said...

Ha! Not only will he watch his own children, but Tony will totally be the primary nurturer since he is the only one with any maternal instinct around here. Seriously, I'm amazed I haven't accidentally killed one of the cats yet.

Perhaps the no kids thing is a smart move for us...

Reluctant Housewife said...

This was so much fun!

And we have the same philosophy about houseworek!

I read a "how to be a housewife" thing that had been written for young women in the 50s or something like. It shocked me so much I had to go to bed for a week.

Stephanie said...

Oh man. I think my favorite part is the "eager anticipation of the household tasks ahead of you will assure him he made the right choice." Because if you aren't excited to wash the dishes, your husband will wonder why he ever married you.

Although Patto never seems to look forward to breaking out the scrubbing bubbles to clean the bathrooms (because I haven't raised a sponge to them in 5 years), I'm pretty sure I made the right choice. :)

erin said...

gah!! you had me in stitches :D that is hilarious and leaves a lot to be desired in THIS household, lol! thank you for sharing.