Backroads Miz Manners is at it again, dispensing timely advice to the whiners among us.
Dear Backroads Miz Manners,
For years, I have borne the lion's share of household duties. I know that my husband works hard outside the home. But so do I. I have grown accustomed to being that lioness who slaughters the wildebeest and brings it home for the males in my pride to feast on before I get my share. I understand that the main chore of the males is to lounge around, napping. And that the secondary chore is to occasionally fight with one another to establish dominance. I don't expect any help from them in cleaning up our little portion of the savanna.
Imagine my surprise this morning when I schlepped the full pail of dehumidifier water out the basement door, only to find that my old jug of bleach had disappeared. I put half a cap of bleach in the dehumidifier bucket once a day. That keeps it sparkling fresh. No mold is going to take hold on my watch. I searched the back yard. Perhaps last night's storm had blown the bleach into the edge of the woods. Or under the pool deck. I searched high and low. No bleach.
My husband returned from a jaunt on his John Deere Gator. Supposing that he had traveled more ground this morning on his little green jalopy than I had on foot, I asked if, perchance, he had run across my bleach jug. Silence. And then..."Oh. That was bleach in there? I threw that away yesterday."
It's not the price of bleach that annoys me. I have another jug in the laundry room. It's just the fact that my man would sooner give away a goat than lift a finger to assist me. And yet...he took it upon himself to toss out a jug of bleach remnants that had been residing on the concrete retaining wall under the house by the basement door since 2009, when he used it for something to do with the pool.
Is it just me, Miz Manners, or is my husband trying to drive me crazy?
Signed, Curiously Chlorine Free
It's just you. Toughen up, Buttercup. Save the drama for your mama and have some cheese with that whine. Your man takes the initiative to discard some back yard jetsam, and all you can do is bawl about it? Tote that pail with a smile on your face, woman, and stop berating your significant other. It's Father's Day, for cryin' out loud. Get off the guy's back for one day, why don't you, and let him pat himself on it for his good deed.
Stand by your man, darlin', and in another fifteen years he might do another chore.
Signed, Backroads Miz Manners