Susan's done bending over.
She's been bending over for almost five decades and she's through with it. From now on someone else can bend the f*ck over.

She's already abdicated vacuuming, which requires tons of bending over. Did she say abdicated?
That's incorrect.
She meant to say that she engages in the same argument every Friday night with the son about vacuuming on Saturday morning. If he's unavailable on Saturday morning then the vacuuming is to be done on Friday night. But, not only does she have to argue with the son she's also got to argue with the husband about not arguing with the son.

Somebody's insane and it's not Susan.

Next, Susan will no longer be bending over to pick up the change that falls out of the husband's pockets when he takes his pants off. Susan's husband doesn't even attempt to pick up the change, like somehow it's not his job. She hears the change hit the floor every night and thinks the same thing I'm not bending over to pick up that f*cking change.

She's not bending over to pick up other people's belongings from places they shouldn't be. She's not bending over to get a new garbage bag from underneath the sink or to clean around the toilet or to pull laundry out of the dryer or to unplug the printer in order to get it out of the dining room when there's company for dinner.

She'll bend over to fill the dog's bowl that's it.