Let's start off by holding one truth to be self-evident; most men don't cope well with housework. Some do, I suppose, and it really ought not be such a hard thing to do, but the fact is that most of us guys just aren't wired for it. There could be a lot of reasons for that, but I'm personally convinced that a large number of adult males possess a Stupid Gene that they've had since birth, and, further, that said Stupid Gene insures that we will inevitably do The Wrong Thing at the wrong time even when we actually meant to do The Right Thing instead. (There's a corollary there, though. We generally only get stupid when our wife, girlfriend, or significant other is there to see us do it; to catch and humiliate us.) Add to that gene a liberal dose of male logic ("It isn't really important to do it that way, is it?") and the skids are greased and waiting for that slide directly into the maw of Household Disaster.
We forget a lot of things too, and that doesn't help matters any. It's pretty easy to leave out the water when you make coffee in a coffee maker, for instance. It's also pretty easy to leave out the coffee, or the filter. These things don't constitute The End of The World As We Know It to most men, but they seem to annoy almost any spouse, even though it's only one part of this activity, the leaving-out-the-water part, really does any lasting harm since so doing can fry certain coffee makers. The other two are just messy, which is no big deal at all if you can persuade someone else to clean up said mess. The persuasion often involves admitting one's complete and total lack of sense, of course, but that's a small price to pay where hot coffee grounds are concerned.
Some people like to have clean floors, particularly in areas where food preparation and eating take place with any degree of regularity. I like clean floors too, but getting down on hand and knee to perform that particular task isn't much fun, and there's an easier way! Many years ago a friend of mine showed me how to get clean floors instantly, and with no muss or fuss. Jim and Kay had an infant daughter at the time, and also had a herd of dogs, three to be exact. The Patented Jim and Kay Cleaning Process went something like this: Make dinner, eat dinner, feed the baby. Stuff gets on the floor when you cook. More stuff gets on the floor when you feed the baby. Even more stuff gets on the floor when the adults (?) present spill things or drop food while attempting to avoid the projectiles launched by the aforementioned baby. The result? Stuff on the floor, of course! (Pay attention, doggone it!) The solution? LET THE DOGS IN! That's right, let 'em in. They aren't called man's best friend for nothing, you know, and they'll lick that floor clean faster than you can whistle Dixie. Simple problem; simple solution. No sweat, GI!
Then there's vacuuming. Most people vacuum their houses with some regularity (although I fail to see the point since the dust just goes away once it's had a chance to settle into the carpet), but there are drawbacks to such premeditated madness. For example, anything tiny that's dropped on the floor will be consumed by The Vacuum Troll, that evil being that lives in the dust bag and devours Priceless Heirlooms with wild abandon. Vacuum cleaners aren't particularly kind to small mammals either, although we aren't going to discuss that one, and some of them, those evil devices that were designed for the sole purpose of bedeviling mankind, have a switch on them that lets you blow stuff OUT of the vacuum rather than pulling it in. The so-called shop vacuums are the prime offenders in that arena, but some others do it too, and the mess they make is profound. In other words, that stuff gets everywhere and, once again, the Woman of The House is not amused.
Finally, there's the dishes. They're a necessary evil, and they need to be cleaned with some regularity if such minor inconveniences as food poisoning are to be avoided. You can use dogs to clean plates and bowls, and sometimes cups too, but they don't usually do well with glasses or silverware; that eliminates The Dog Option from our list of cleaning possibilities, so we have to actually pony up and wash the dishes. I personally don't mind doing that---it's one of those mindless activities that suits me to a tee---but once you've washed the dishes you have to put them up, and that, my friends, is my own personal Waterloo. Putting the dishes up is no Big Deal; make sure they're dry and put them away. My problem is putting them back where they came from. My logic is simple: If I can find 'em, so can anybody else. You might have to hunt for them a while but they're there. Just look! (No, I'm definitely not brave enough to say that out loud!) Not everybody sees the world that way, of course. In my view us guys are just celebrating our free-spiritedness. The woman of the house, however, won't necessarily see things that way.
At this point in this ongoing diatribe you're probably saying something to yourself like "What about the flood? For cryin' out loud, would you stop babbling and get to the point? We want to hear about The Flood!!!" Ok, ok, I did say we'd talk about it, didn't I? Let's talk about it, then, but it really ain't much of a much, although it does, when all's said and done, show us plainly how unfair life can be.
There are two kinds of dishwashing soap, you know. There's the liquid kind that comes in a bottle, and there's the powdered kind. You can use the powdered kind in a dishpan, although it doesn't work very well since it never really dissolves all the way and leaves grit on everything it touches (besides which it doesn't get things very clean anyway). The liquid kind is another matter entirely. It works in the sink, and it will, by Golly, work in a dishwasher! People will tell you it doesn't, but it does. Just fill up that little soap dispenser and let 'er rip! The dishes get every bit as clean as if they were done with the powdered kind of soap, although there are, as the medical profession likes to say, certain side effects. With some types of prescription medications the user is exposed to the possibility of Infrequent Oily Discharge, a concept that frankly scares me to death. With dishwashing liquid you get another sort of discharge (or dishcharge, if you will); suds; lots and lots of suds. So many suds that no single dishwasher can contain them, no matter how well it may have been sealed when it left the factory. Suds, white lovely suds, simply gushing out of every possible door and orifice in that dishwasher---lovely white suds covering, and I mean covering, the kitchen floor, the countertops, the dogs, the kids. Suds from Hades. Suds that can't be stopped, not by anything. Suds that came to STAY. Suds here. Suds there. Suds everywhere! Yikes!
Where are the dogs when you need them?
hasta bye bye,
phil
Comments