I Want It

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Ice Cream Treat, Gatineau, June 2015

Ice Cream Treat, Gatineau, June 2015

I need a drink. A cold drink. Like… a can of Coke Zero. Or iced coffee. I love iced coffee—just black coffee and ice cubes—,a taste I developed in South-East Asia. It’s an acquired taste. My French family simply can’t fathom this cold-coffee business.

For an iced coffee, I need to head to Starbucks, an easy fifteen-minute walk. But right now, I don’t feel like going anywhere.

I’m sure we have Coke.

I close my eyes for a second. I can still picture myself taking the last can from the fridge eight hours ago. Eh, don’t judge, it’s been a hot day.

Meanwhile, this means there are no cans left in the big cold box—unless the hot guy from the Coke commercial delivered some… Nah. This is the real world. If I want a drink, I’m going to have to go downstairs, to the basement, haul the twelve-can pack to the kitchen, fight with the stupid plastic wrapping, take the scissors, open it properly, rinse the scissors (the plastic is dusty), take two or three cans out and place them in the fridge and…

Oh, fuck it.

Stay thirsty, my friend.

Look, I’m not lazy. I was up early this morning. Feng drove Mark to my in-laws for a bit and I vacuumed the entire house, cleaned the kitchen floor, did the dishes, cleaned the fridge and the microwave (fucking Pizza Pop… pizza pops in the microwave, oh yes!), cleaned the wooden floor in the living room, put Mark’s toys away, did two loads of laundry, sorted it out and folded it in our respective closets, cleaned the bathrooms and the shower, wiped all surfaces known to mankind, aired out and…

Oh, and I worked too. I translated a couple of pages for a big project.

Then I charged my phone, my Kindle and the camera.

I sorted out the paper and the plastic (garbage day is Sunday night) and I walked to the supermarket where I shopped and hauled back three plastic bags worth of food (carrots and yogurts turned out to be heavier than I had thought).

Then I made the bed because I washed the sheets during laundry load number one.

And I emptied my bag and sorted it out. I’m not sure why I still had a Happy Meal toy and a billion of paper receipts from stores.

Then I called a client back.

So yeah, I’m sorry but I ain’t getting the Coke cans from the basement. This is the proverbial straw that will break my back.

Why am I sorry? The only person being punished is me.

Damn. I’m still thirsty.

I’m so freaking tired of doing stuff.

Right before Mark, I was getting pretty good at taking care of myself and even taking care of us, “us” being Feng, I and whatever place we were staying in. I was almost nailing adulthood.

With Mark, priorities shifted. “I don’t want to talk now!” I shouted the other night during an argument. “Right now, 50% of my brain is dedicated to Mark’s needs, and 50% is used for work. I’m maxed out!”

While this sounds awfully dramatic, it’s kind of true.

Before Mark, I didn’t quite understand why people were using services and conveniences or paying someone to complete a task for them. Why go to the nearest ATM where you have to pay a user fee when you can use your own bank ATM for free? Why pay someone to do your nails when you can perfectly have fun doing it yourself in front of the TV? Why buy sliced veggies when you can chop them yourself? Why hire a maid service? Why buying frozen meals?

I get it now. At one point, when you’re maxed out, these conveniences become gold and having someone do something, anything, for you is heaven.

I’m pretty down-to-earth and I grew up working class, but right now, I’m dreaming of being treated like royalty. I would love to spend a few nights in a really nice hotel, with bathrooms that are already cleaned and beds that are already made. I want someone to massage my tired feet, to brush my hair gently, to arrange my clothes on a chair. I want to ask for a drink and some food and have it delivered. I want a neck massage.

I want to say “look, I would love to…” and have someone reply “sure, I’m taking care of it right now.”

I want to walk across a room without stepping on firetrucks and police cars.

I want to eat something without having to prep it, cook it, do the dishes and wipe crumbs off the table.

I want to walk barefoot on immaculate floors.

I want someone who understands what I’m saying and who gets it.

Now I sound like Mark. “I want it”.

But oh boy… I really do.


About Author

French woman in English Canada. World citizen, new mom, traveler, translator, writer and photographer. Looking for comrades to start a new revolution.


  1. I already feel like this now and we don’t even have kids yet! I was sort of hoping that having a child would actually give me something to be less lazy for!! But sounds so exhausting.

  2. I hear you. House is tiring. I cleaned my apartment this morning, while using the vacuum, my daugther was messing behind. She opened a drawer and put everything out. Now I understand why I don’t mop the floor as often. I simply run out of energy. When I got home from work, I still need to tend to so many responsibilities before having my precious me time. When I told friends here how in Malaysia some of my friends have maid at home taking care of dinner, bath for their kids, they said if we let maid does everything, might as well don’t have children. I don’t know, I would love to come home, everything is clean, and the only responsible I have is to play with the kids.

    • Same here, I wish I could have some help! That said, i’m not sure I’d be comfortable being an employer. I’d probably feel… guilty? It’s okay in some cultures, though. When I was in HK and Singapore, any middle-class family had a maid or a cook.

  3. I read your last post when I was waiting for the plane to take off. I couldn’t reply then.

    Life as a parent is really tough, so it seems, I have no first-hand experience of course however I get scared when I see personal lives of individuals stressed out. There is a saying here in India, I am afraid some of the meaning will be lost in translation, it talks about married life and kids and responsibilities, it goes like this “it is a dessert; those who taste it regret it and those who don’t they regret as well”

    Go get that drink Juliettte 🙂

    • That’s such a wise saying! It translates pretty well, actually. I think of it has an experience. It has always been my position in life. Did I want the “inconveniences” of being a parent? Hell no 😆 But did I want to miss on the experience? Nope. And this is how I ended up pregnant 😆

  4. J’en suis là parfois aussi, tannée d’avoir sans cesse des choses à faire, à accomplir. Surtout le ménage, ce n’est définitivement pas mon truc, je déteste ça. Mais les maisons propres j’aime ça, c’est bon pr mon moral. Je voudrais tellement une maison propre si tu savais. Je suis lassée de voir la vaisselle s’empiler, le panier de linge toujours déborder… Je pousse parfois Alex à se lever avant moi juste pour le plaisir de me lever et de trouver la table du petit déjeuner mise. C’est ridicule lol

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