Jemima Kirke Instagram – As the Polaroids came into view, Tuesday realized she could’ve done better than Jeff. “He knew it too” she said out loud as she poured herself an afternoon chardonnay. A plumber was there to fix the kitchen sink. He turned to her. “Not you,” she said. He went back to twisting valves, grunting like he had asthma or was too tired to work. She sipped her drink and thought about his wife. Was she satisfied by this? Lately she’d been fantasizing about going bar hopping with a girlfriend, living it up before gleefully driving off a cliff together. “Maybe this guy’s wife is interested…” she said. The plumber turned to her again. Briefly this time. Tuesday knew that look. The look that a bewildered man gives when he’s decided she’s a wack job. Just then, she noticed that his ass crack was showing. A plumber with plumber’s butt. She laughed hard at the absurdity of it, leaning into the wack job thing. But perhaps it was a sign. If plumbers really do have plumber’s butt, then she, the unhappy housewife, could leave dinner in the microwave and walk out. She could drive a convertible with a silk scarf around her head, holding hands with her best friend, the plumber’s wife, as they head for Mexico. Pics @andrewtess Face @missguynyc Head #seanbennett