Book excerpt: I have three kids, four cats, two dogs, one husband, and a migraine. My oldest son is an MD: Manic Depressive. My middle child won't be happy until she has lost enough weight to buy her clothes in the Barbie aisle. My youngest son sleeps all day and prowls around all night. I don't have his test results back yet, but I'm pretty sure he's a vampire. Life is like a box of chocolates for some. For me, it's more like the popular board game by Parker Bros: Monotony. No matter how meticulously I sweep, mop, and vacuum, I turn around and have to do it all again in six months. There was a time when an unfulfilled housewife could stick her head inside a gas oven and end it all while still retaining a modicum of dignity. If my husband comes home from work to find my head in the microwave, I'm just going to look silly. The afterlife is likely overrated anyway. Take the silk gowns for example. Ironically, most women wouldn't be caught dead wearing white after labor day. Besides, neatness has never been my strong suit. I will spill coffee or grape juice on it the first day. In other words, I'll be doing laundry again. And if that silk doesn't need to be dry cleaned, those wings surely will. I'm a realist. My husband imagines spending eternity lounging around on a fluffy cloud and doing absolutely nothing - a role for which he is supremely qualified. I, on the other hand, anticipate that the cloud's moisture will make my hair go limp. Heaven might not be an option because my husband is an atheist and I'm exhausted. People sometimes ask if that concerns me. What they don't realize is that when you're married, as long as you and your spouse are together for the rest of eternity, you're going to be in hell either way.