Husband remarked that it would be nice if we had our own nanny, and I agreed. It’s not a bad idea – for people that actually have kids, of course. Though Husband and I have adolescent tendencies, we do not actually qualify as children. We don’t even have pets, and we’re barely sustaining a living plant.
But he mused about how a nanny might make our life easier. The nanny might do some extra cleaning around the place. We might actually eat healthier meals. (Especially since I recently learned that carry-out pizza does not fall under the category of health food.)
For me, I thought that the nanny might tell me with a “tsk, tsk” when I’ve been on the internet too long. Or when I should tackle the laundry basket overflowing with dirty clothes.
Then I realized that we do have a small nanny, in the form of my nagging conscience. She surfaces occasionally reminding me to turn off the TV and turn on the oven, or nudging me to buy some vegetables at the grocery store. But, she doesn’t come around often. And it’s no wonder – I’m not paying her enough. In fact, I think she might be on strike.