• author
    • Donald Sanders

    • January 11, 2016 in Columnists

    It’s not laziness — it’s common sense!

    I told my wife, “I’m not gonna do it!” It just doesn’t make sense to me. You go through all the trouble to put the damn Christmas lights up and then she wants me to take them back down. Everybody that knows anything about Christmas lights knows that this is something that has to be done in the right manner — it has to be planned out.

    When you take Christmas lights down, you can’t just go like wham-bam, the way women like to do everything. Those lights are fragile and have to be handled with a delicate touch. It’s not a job to be handled in cold weather because a brittle light will crack under the strain of removal. Proper removal should be postponed until at least March or April but then you might as well leave them up because the next Christmas is right around the corner.

    Yeah, my wife Therese is becoming a compulsive complainer. Geeze, I can’t do anything right. Yesterday she was complaining about all the stuff I have scattered all over the yard. She called it junk! She can’t seem to fathom the idea that this is where I keep all the stuff I’ve borrowed from friends and now I have to fix them before I can take them back to the proper owners. I can’t fix them all at once and if I put them in the shed, I’ll forget about them and it might be several years before I can return the lawn mower to Terry’s house.

    With Therese, it’s always hurry this and hurry that. Take the bathroom remodel, for example. What’s the hurry — you’re not going to sleep in there are you? She nags that I’ve taken six years to do a bathroom remodel. That’s too long. Just get it finished and put the damn trim on! What the hell! By the time I get the trim on, I’ll have to turn right around and take it back off because it’s time to paint it again. Do you want new-looking trim on walls with peeling paint, little miss-missie-miss? I think not!

    Mowing the lawn is another thing she likes to complain about. Our lawn mower is over a year old and the handle is bent so it’s only a foot off the ground. It hurts my back to bend over so low while I cut the grass. Not only that, you have to pull this rope thingy to get it started and it almost never starts right away. If there is anyone around, the mower might throw a rock and put someone’s eye out. I can’t be responsible for something like that, can I?

    Her pet peeve is complaining about all the little pieces of toys strewn about the yard all the time. She says they hurt her feet when she steps on them. It’s not my fault that the kids leave their toys lying in the yard. She just won’t let sleeping dogs lie and says, “Why don’t you pick up the toys instead of running over them with the lawnmower?”

    “It’s not my job,” I say.

    Now it’s the bookshelf! She doesn’t want my books to touch her books! This, this, this and this are your shelves. All the rest are mine, so kindly keep your books off of my shelves. “While you’re at it, why don’t you clean up all the junk around the computer?” she says. “You have a file cabinet right there so why don’t you put your stuff in a file?” she says.

    She says, “This and this and this and this!” It will never end.

    “First of all,” I say, “I can’t get the damn file cabinet drawer open because there is a box of stuff right in front of it I would have to move every time I want to file something!” I’m just not going to do it! No, I’m not going to do it ever!

    Now she’s complaining about why we have two thermostats on the living room wall.

    “Why do we need two thermostats?” she says.

    I say, “Well it’s pretty self-explanatory, dear!” I continue, “One thermostat doesn’t work, so I put a new one up!” I can’t take the old thermostat down because there would be bare wires sticking out and someone might get electrocuted! I just don’t know what I can do to please her! I mean I work like 98 hours a day trying to fix things around the house. I think I deserve a little recognition for jobs that will be well done when I’m finished!

    Screw those Christmas lights!

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