When I heard about that 45-year-old housewife in Indiana who went on strike at the end of September and has refused to do laundry, cook or make the beds since, my first thought was ``You go girl!'' and my second was ``I'm gonna pull one of those myself,'' until I realized that, er, ah, with the amount of housework I do, I'm not sure a strike would be noticed.

``It would be like if the cashiers at CVS staged a work slowdown,'' one of my more candid friends noted. ``How would anyone know it was going on?''

I don't know if you've heard of Kathy Thompson yet - with her new-found free time she has done ``Good Morning America'' and ``Inside Edition,'' and ``Dr. Phil'' and CNN camera crews are circling - but her issue was a lack of appreciation.

Kathy told reporters she was tired of working, going to school and caring for the house while her husband, Gary, went fishing.

I can sympathize with her - nothing's worse than not being properly thanked - but my issue is a little different. My efforts around the home didn't go unnoticed. I actually got negative reinforcement. Every thing I did was - I'm not kidding - undone. For example: Some time in September (perhaps the very same day that Kathy launched her strike) I did the laundry. I sorted the lights from the darks, being careful to remove most of the dry-clean-only items from the pile. I shlepped the two baskets down to the basement, put the clothes in the machines, waited, carried them all back upstairs, folded them and then put them in the appropriate-ish drawers.

And what happened? The very next day I caught my husband - I'm not making this up - wearing a clean shirt!!!

And get this one: One day a few months ago I made all the beds, and as you can imagine, the bedrooms looked really nice, like they could have been in a catalog or something, instead of a crime scene from ``CSI: Miami.''

So, as I said, the beds were all made, and day turns to night, and my husband went to put our older son to bed. I happened to glance in the room and . . . do my eyes deceive me, or is he pulling down the comforter and the blanket and top sheet?

I mean, it was as if he was going to put the child to sleep in the bed. The made bed. ``Hello!!!'' I yelled in the room. ``What do you think the rug is for?''

The CNN.com story I read about Indiana Thompson and her Temple of Dust didn't say whether grocery shopping was also one of her issues, but it's certainly one of mine, and you'll see why when you hear what happened.

One day when the refrigerator was totally empty (we could have rented it out as a cold storage locker for sweaters or fur coats) I decided, oh, what the heck, and I went out and bought a ton of groceries. Fruit, veggies, chicken, frozen items, a bunch of ``ring on deli'' stuff.

As you may know if you've ever grocery shopped, there's a lot of heavy lifting involved. But even so, I brought all of the food into the house, and I stocked the fridge and the cabinets and then I went out to get a facial or something (because I deserved it), and when I returned my nose was assaulted with the unmistakable scent of citrus.

Ready to blow a fuse, I ran into the kitchen, where I snagged the babysitter cutting an orange for my kids. ``Hey,'' I said, ``do you think fruit grows on trees or something?''

So anyway, as I said, I sympathize with Kathy, but I'm not going to strike in support. I think a ``no-live'' zone would be more practical. The next time I clean a room, I'm going to put up maroon velvet ropes to keep people out.

Except for the CNN crew. They can go wherever they want.