 As for building things, I can't even build a two-layer birthday
cake, much less a two-story addition. In fact, a two-story birdhouse
would probably be beyond my capabilities.
If my husband told me where to put the nail, I could probably
make that hammer sing, though, admittedly, those first few swings
would be kind of dicey because my fingers would still be in danger
of painful consequences if I missed.
I'm not so incompetent in emergency situations, however. If my
husband was not around, I could fix a leaky pipe with bubble gum and
duct tape. It wouldn't be a sexy fix, but it'd hold until he came
home.
As capable as my husband is when it comes to fixing or building,
he seems to be lost when it comes to things that are second nature
to me. He tries to handle his share of the housework but … he's not
very good at it. And for the life of me, I haven't been able to
figure out in 27 years of marriage whether his household
chore-related incompetence is real or contrived. He must feel the
same way about me.
"You couldn't possibly be that stupid!"
I don't know whether I'd rather that he thinks I'm stupid, or
that he thinks I'm pretending stupidity to get out of fixing
something. It's a no-win situation for both of us.
When I see my husband head for the laundry room with a basket
full of dirty clothes, some of which are mine, I make an excuse to
help him sort the clothes.
Sorting is apparently an alien concept to his mind. He can
usually get the whites right, but a white shirt with colored stripes
does tend to confound him. The categories for colored and dark
clothing are something he is simply incapable of understanding.
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 While he flings clothes indiscriminately into random piles, I'll
be bending over, tossing them into the correct piles.
He'll hold up something and say, "Is this a light color or a dark
color?"
Without looking up from my task, I'll ask, "What color is it?"
"Red."
"Well, is it a dark red or a light red?"
You can see the challenges he has to face, the poor dear.
It also has apparently never occurred to him what happens to the
outside of a laundry detergent jug when you don't rinse out the
measuring cup/cap before putting it back on top of the jug. So even
though I'm the one who rinses the cap out, he gets the benefit of a
goo-free laundry experience, and I get his detergent backwash all
over my hands.
It is second nature for me to clean out the lint trap between
loads -- a difficult thing to do with detergent on my hands.
Although he has learned (finally) to clean it out, due to the many
times he still had wet clothes after a drying cycle, he still tends
to collect the lint balls on top of my dryer instead of tossing them
in the trash can less than a foot from his body.
The lint balls combine with the goo from the backwashed laundry
detergent to make my dryer look like a giant, dead Chia Pet. Maybe
he's got a latent desire to create abstract art while he's doing the
laundry. That's an obscure talent to be sure.
[By LAURA SNYDER]
You can reach the writer at
lsnyder@lauraonlife.com
Or visit www.lauraonlife.com
for more columns and info about her books. |
