A Husband and a Wife
Mar 28 '07
The Bottom Line Robert Green Ingersoll said It is a thousand times better to have common sense without education than to have education without common sense. Robert was a wise man.
No one told me some men can and some men cannot. Weren't all men like my father, my brother and other male relatives? Didn't all men fix what was broken, maintain their homes and cars, do the heavy work, build things, and generally do what was thought of as man's work?
Examples:
If my mother needed her outside clothesline repaired, or a new one built, my father did it.
If the family car needed maintenance, my father did it.
If the wind blew shingles off the roof, my father put new ones on.
If the yard needed mowing, my father or brother did it (when needed, my sister and I mowed, raked, and kept debris picked up).
These are just a few examples but they give you an idea as to how I viewed all men in my formative years. They were big, strong, capable, and hard working.
My mother took care of the house and the children. When we were old enough to fend for ourselves, Mom worked outside the home. Weekends meant catching up on housework, grocery shopping, the wash, the ironing and everything else that needed doing.
When I married, it soon became apparent my husband could not do things my father and brother could. When work needed doing around my house, it was necessary to get my Dad, brother, or brother-in-law to do them.
My husband worked from 8-3 teaching and once his day ended, it ended. He came home and watched ball games on TV until bedtime. My husband's father worked in a sawmill cutting lumber. When his work day ended, it ended. He came home and listened to the radio until bedtime. My husband's mother worked in the Alcoa Aluminum plant in Alcoa. After work, she would come home, fix supper, do the dishes and then go to her second job where she worked until 11 p.m.
During the many years of my marriage, I did everything necessary in keeping our home running as smoothly as possible. The one chore my husband found foisted on him was doing the weed-eating in spring, summer and part of fall. My husband never wrote a check and never made a phone call (even to his doctor or dentist as I sat up all his appointments). As stated above, after his day ended, it ended.
Until he came home from work one day informing me of the fact, he had paid me a huge compliment at work. I asked, "What kind of compliment?"
He said he had bragged to his co-workers how he never had to do anything when he got home at the end of the day. His wife did it all and the only thing he had to do was eat his supper, which was prepared and waiting on him, get a shower, and watch TV. Some of his co-workers were complaining about the work they still had to do once they were home from work. The longer my husband talked about how easy he had it around the house, the deeper he stepped in it. Grinning from ear to ear, he wanted me to thank him for the great compliment he gave me.
Life has not been quite the same for him, or me, since that day. I no longer do it all and he no longer brags about his wife.
Saturday, March 24, 2007.
It's 8 a.m., and it's a beautiful, sunny day outside. I wake up feeling rejuvenated and ready for the day. For several weeks, I had been sick, and recovering from my illness was rather slow. I make my bed, go into my husband's bedroom, and make his (as I said, life has not quite been the same for him). Then, I go downstairs to put a load of wash in the washer. I head for the kitchen to prepare (notice I did not say, "fix") our breakfast. My husband is already in front of the TV watching cartoons.
I cannot do it. I just cannot do it. I cannot work all day while he sits and watches TV.
It's time for action.
The weed-eater needed a new head. My husband suggested I get online and order it for him. I suggested he make some phone calls, find a place that sells what he needs, and go get it. He digs out the phone book asking me what he should look under? I told him I didn't know. He named off a place and asked me if I thought they would have one? I told him I didn't know. He asked me if I thought he should call them? I told him I did.
They didn't have what he needed. He finds the name of another place and asks me if I thought they would have one? I told him I didn't know. He asked me if I thought he should call them? I told him I did.
They didn't have what he needed. He finds the name of another place and for the third time, asks me if I thought they would have one? I told him I didn't know. He asked me if I thought he should call them? I told him I did.
EUREKA! They have one that should fit it but he says he doesn't think he'll go to town and pick it up today.
Oh?
The yard definitely needs mowing, so while I'm working inside, I suggest he mow for me. I am getting better but no need to over-do it.
Did I hear a groan?
After breakfast, I hang my load of wash on the line to dry and put in another load to be washing while I clean. My husband goes out to the garage where I presume he's getting the mower out.
He comes in saying the mower has a front flat tire. I agreed there was indeed a flat tire, and repeated what I had been asking of him for two weeks, "Will you fix the flat on the mower?" He didn't answer. Sigh. I told him to use the small pressure pump kept in my car to air it up for now. He goes back out and I continue with my work.
He is back again. He says with an expectant look towards me, "The tire didn't hold the air." Nope, that won't work. I told him to go up to the market, get a can of Fix-a-Flat, and see if it wouldn't work.
The expectant look has vanished.
He comes back from the market, shows me the can of Fix-a-Flat, grumps about paying $5 for it and says he's going to give it a try. As he leaves, he tells me he'll be sure and let me know if it works. Bite your tongue, Dusty, and don't say it.
He comes back and says the tire is fine. I tell him, "Good. Now, go mow."
A few minutes later, he's back in the house to say the gas tank is almost empty and there's not enough to mow. The market is two miles up the road, it's open, and he can get some gas there. He shuffles out while I return work.
He's back in no time to inform me the tank is now full but he thinks he'll need more gas if he's to mow the entire yard (field and all). He wants to know if I thought he should go back to the market now and fill the gas can up or should he wait until he ran out of gas? I tell him if it were me, I'd go back to the market now.
He goes back to the market, and then comes in the house to tell me he bought another can of gas. Isn't he sweet?
I'm smiling, or is it grimacing, and tell him he should be all set to mow.
Around fifteen minutes later he comes back in and says, "I know this is going to sound dumb, but I can't find where the ignition key goes."
I can only look at him in amazement.
I stop what I'm doing, ask him to give me the key and we walk out to the garage. I sit on the mower, show him where the ignition is, insert the key, turn the key, the motor starts and I tell him to hold the seat down while I get off and he gets on. I wait for him to back the mower out. Success! He is on the grass and I head back inside.
I can hear the sound of the mower but it's not moving. I look outside the window and he motions for me to come to him. I get to the mower and he says he can't get the blades to move (rotate).
I reach over, pull the yellow knob out, and the blades start rotating.
Without commenting, I turn around and walk away. Bite your tongue, Dusty!
Another load of clothes were hung on the line, the hardwood floors are swept, the carpet vacuumed, and then I hear silence. The mower has stopped. Ignore it, Dusty, and keep on with your work.
The door opens and my husband is standing there. I wait to hear what he has to say. "I hate to bother you again but I can't get the mower to start. I stopped it to move a limb out of my way and now it won't start."
He is down behind the house close to the pond so I walk to the mower with him following me. I get on the mower, depress the brake pedal, turn the ignition, the motor starts and then pull the knob for the blades. I turn the mower off. I get off the mower. I look at him and say, "It's very easy." I also give him "The Look."
All you women know what I'm talking about when I say "The Look."
Every neighborhood usually has one family that yells and screams at each other, and sometimes the police summoned as they are disturbing the peace. We are not that family but that could change.
I ask my husband why he is mowing the field instead of the yard. Wouldn't it be better to mow the yard first and then the field?
He informs me he knows how to mow and he'll mow his way. I can mow my way and he'll mow his way. I can no longer hold my tongue, so with a biting edge to my voice, I tell him, "You don't know how to mow, either. You can't even start the mower!"
I am yelling. He is yelling. I am screaming. He is screaming. Words flew through the air like a rocket to the moon. Hell hath no fury like a mad woman dealing with an incompetent nincompoop.
It's time to walk away as there is no getting through to a man who thinks he knows it all, when in reality, he knows nothing. To this day, my three grown children cannot reason with their father. They are always wrong and he is always right. My husband actually thinks he would make a great king to rule the world.
I'm back in the house working when I hear the mower resume.
All seems to be going well. I am accomplishing more than anticipated without constant interruptions.
Finally, the mower is in the back yard so I look out the window to see how things are going.
My eyes (and mouth) open in shock when I saw the rope on my round clothes line either broken or sagging. Clothes lay strewn around the metal pole; towels bunched up looking like colored Easter eggs, and what few clothes were hanging, sagged pitifully.
These short, stubby legs hurried downstairs and flung the back door open. I ran to the clothesline giving "The Look" to my husband as he sat on the mower watching me. Dirty tire marks were obvious on clothes and towels alike. A plastic hanger, which held a sleeveless T-shirt of mine, lay broken and shattered on the ground. For a second, I could only stare at the carnage in front of me.
The man is hopeless.
With foul thoughts of malice towards the man watching me, the rope was fixed where it could be fixed and what couldn't be fixed, would do until a new rope was bought. With a great deal of anger, I yanked clothes off the ground and retreated inside.
Before going to sleep that night, I decided to stop fighting a losing battle. From now on, he can sit in front of the TV watching cartoons and later, ballgames. My nerves can't take this!
There are many who would disagree on my opinion when I say there are some men who can and there are some who cannot. While my husband is an intelligent man when it comes to book learning, he is also a man who doesn't seem to have much common sense.
This could also apply to me. A woman with an ounce of common sense would not have married a man without an ounce of common sense.
Saturday was not a good day and by writing this, I'm leaving the day in your hands as I don't want it!
Keep a smile on your face and a good thought in your heart.
© ddustyrose March 2007
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ddustyrose
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Location: Tennessee
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President of Short Ladies of Epinions. SHLEPS
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