• author
    • Donald Sanders

    • October 28, 2014 in Columnists

    Pioneer type

    I have always thought of myself as the pioneer type, rough and rugged, able to survive in the wilderness of early America. As a kid, I ran away from the orphanage, surviving by eating from garbage cans until the cops caught me behind the doughnut shop. I got a bad case of the worms, but I did survive.

    Okay, that said, recent activities in my life have forced me to rethink things. I have to consider the facts and see if they add up to support my idea of being pioneer-worthy or just another pussy like my wife thinks I am. Just because I whine a lot does not make me weak. It’s my way of prepping myself to do the really rough chores like the pioneers did. I’ll bet there was a lot of whining going on back in 1850.

    You can be the judge. My wife and I are remodeling the kitchen. Sounds simple, right? I’ll start at the beginning. After my wife told me we were going to get new cabinets and a new floor in our kitchen, I thought it was a good thing. When she asked me to accompany her to Home Depot to shop for cabinets I told her, “Aw, you can go and pick out the ones you want, you don’t need me.”

    She said she needed me.

    Now I would rather have someone jab a stick in my eye than go shopping with my wife. When I go to Home Depot, I’m in and out in 5 minutes. I might not have what I went in for but that’s usually because I forgot what I wanted. My wife, on the other hand, can take up to six hours on a single shopping trip. She has to compare this to that, think about things, tally the cost, talk to sales people and then have them tally the cost to compare with her tally.

    Usually while she is doing all this, I hang out in the nail department looking at nails. After a while, she’ll come and find me to ask my opinion on this or that, but when I give it, she decides to go with her own, original decision.

    “Oh, never mind, go back to your nails.” she says.

    At this point, I go out of my way to roll my eyes at her.

    “Don’t you roll your eyes at me!” she says.

    Anyway, it takes about 40 trips to Home Depot before she makes up her mind on which cabinets she wants. Further trips for knobs, sinks and faucets absolutely drove me insane. After all this, I was thinking we were close to being done with the shopping, but no. Forty trips to Home Depot and she says, “Let’s go over to Lowes and see what they have.”

    After Lowes, we went back to Home Depot.

    OK, cabinets bought and paid for, so I thought the worst was over. Like the pioneer type guy that I thought I was, I tore out all the old cabinets, fixed the holes in the wall, disconnected the plumbing of the old sink, then cleaned up the mess. Then about a dozen people came out at different times to measure the walls. I didn’t know who they were or what company they worked for. I was just doing what I was told to do.

    The construction guys came out and installed a beautiful new set of cabinets. Woohoo! I thought all was going well. Well, that’s what I get for thinking. The sink and counters could not be installed for two weeks. I was horrified. OMG! This is never going to end! What would my wife think?

    She was still not talking to me because I didn’t save the box she wanted that the cabinets came in. “I even marked which one I wanted with a big “SAVE THIS BOX” written in black marker so you wouldn’t throw them away!” she says.

    I didn’t save the box. I forgot, alright?

    So after all of that, here is where the pioneer crap comes in. How the hell did the pioneers wash their dishes with no kitchen sink? Here’s what I have to do every day. I do most of the dishes in our home. My wife says I don’t, but don’t ever listen to her. I have to carry all the dishes to the back porch and wash them in the laundry sink. Can you imagine?

    It’s a royal pain in the ass, so if you think it’s so easy, you can come over and show me how easy it is. Sometimes I think my hardships will never end. Why is it always me that this crap happens to? I wish just one time it would happen to someone else. I’ll bet that John Pickerel (owner of the Buckhorn Steakhouse) doesn’t have to do dishes on his back porch and neither does John Donlevy (City of Winters General Manager). They probably have servants to do that.

    Why can’t I have servants?

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