As many of you know, I write a
monthly column in The Vegas Voice newspaper entitled
"Say What !?!".
Within the next day or two you will
be receiving the October, 2013 issue in your mail
box.
I hope you
enjoy...
The
"Look"
If you're a married man, you'll know
exactly what I mean when I say..
"The
Look"
It's that expression on your wife's
face when you, the macho guy, the former breadwinner, who has taken up the many
years of her life...does something DUMB.
There is little doubt that we guys
think a lot differently than you gals. We guys know we're always right....and
you gals, constantly prove us wrong !
A case in point is
memory...something that seems to be escaping me lately as I age. I can remember
the day in kindergarten when Billy Krueger pooped in his pants, but somehow
can't remember what I wore yesterday.
I'd like to be a bit more specific.
Yesterday, as my wife left the house for her "pan game", she
looked at me and said "Don't forget, Hugh is coming
by to fix the cabinet door that keeps opening and won't
close".
Hugh is my neighbor who can fix
anything...thank God for Hugh.
He's always been there, and I've
been deeply in his gratitude for the 8 years I've lived here; so much so, that
I'm thinking of purchasing a keyman life insurance policy on him for funds I'll
need to fix things if he should have the audacity of dying on me
someday.
Allow me to
digress....
Me...let's just say my dear dad,
upon graduating from college, put his arms around me and
gave me this advice," Dick, you have to earn a lot of
money"; and after saying it to me three times, I looked at him and said,
"Pop, where are you going with this"? He then proceeded to tell me that "I had to earn a lot of money...because I was the most helpless
(deleted expletive) in the world"...when it came to
working with my hands.
OK...I eventually made dad proud; I
made the money, but as it turned out, he was certainly
right.
I am
helpless...I would have been the caveman who would have died of exposure
while trying to start a fire...even if matches would have been
invented.
Now...my wife is another matter.
She's the Ms. Fix-It in our home. She, unlike myself, actually reads directions.
I learned years ago, that us guys have no need for such trivial
matters.
But...back to the cabinet door that
wouldn't close.
Off she goes to the card game, and
Hugh arrives to fix the cabinet. "Looks like the hinge is
broken", said the mechanical
guru.
No problem, I knew exactly where the
new ones were in the garage...until I went out to get
them.
But...they were gone...and I knew that devious female who shares my bed, was the one who
was to blame. Why didn't she leave them out for Hugh?...but she was off
to her card game, and that left Hugh and I sitting there...cold beers in
hand...without the hinges.
We both went to the garage, and we
searched every inch of that 200 degree torture chamber without success...and
Hugh left.
I thought...wait
'til the "shrew" gets home....I can blame
her.
Well now, she finally got home; and
I steadfastly snapped at her for HER forgetting to
leave them out...and not tell me where SHE HAD PUT
THEM...
...and
then...
I got...."The Look".
I hate that look. I've seen it
thousands of times over the last 27 years, and waited patiently for the princess
to speak.
There were no
words, just "The Look" accompanied by a finger
waving saying, "Follow me,
doofus."
...out to the garage, in front of
where those damn hinges were supposed to be...was a box...a box of hinges...a
box with hinges marked in MY HANDWRITING, saying "CABINET
HINGES".
...and just a few simple words from
my sweet, dear, lovely, helpful, intelligent, all-knowing (she's
forcing me to write this as punishment) wife....
"You know what's
next ???...
...teaching you to aim at a toilet I sit
on".
Yes dear.
Dick
Arendt