Homealone


 

As I recall
somewhere it is written, "Man should not live
alone."

 


I
don’t remember if this is in the bible or some other
place, but as whoever wrote it (God?) was a really
smart fellow, or person (to be gender sensitive).

 

Last week we
took a short vacation over to Arizona. You can never
say that I am out of the running for what’s
happening now. I am wherever the action is going on.
Phoenix had its hottest day in ten year…topped out
at 118 degrees. They are also having dueling serial
killers who seem to be competing for the title. We
elected to stay inside in the cool, read books and
eat from the mini-bar and room service. I think we
charged more for room service than the hotel cost
us. But, what the heck, it’s a vacation, right?

 

Anyway, coming
home, my dear sweet wife gets called away to go
baby-sit our new granddaughter for another week,
leaving me to survive on my own.

 

I don’t do
good alone. I am spoiled.

 

So, to give
you an idea of what I was forced to endure, here is
a short list:

 

I stopped up
the toilets two times…

I spilled
dishwasher soap all over the kitchen floor….this is
a huge mess to clean up.

I wasn’t
watching one dog, who rolled in deer poop and then
jumped into bed with me.

I fed the
other dog too much and she barfed all over the den
and living room.

 

Now, as women
are aware, these are the kinds of issues they deal
with each and every day. Not so for men. We are
trained from the dawn of civilization to hunt, slash
and kill, but not to clean up yukkie dog barf from
the rug. My solution was to pour water on it and
towel it out, but that didn’t work as well as when
my wife does it. I never noticed what she uses to
clean the rug, so that was a big loss. I think the
plant I placed over the stain looks fine.

 

The
overflowing toilets weren’t a big deal, I just got
that plunger thing and got those unstopped in a
heartbeat. However the water on the floor was tough
to mop up since some of it found it’s way into the
kitchen where I had just spilled the dishwasher soap
on the floor. This turned into a biohazard nightmare
and not one I wish to repeat anytime soon. It also
was the cause of a major slip and fall on my part
that could have netted me some big bucks if it had
happened in a store in the mall , but I can’t very
well sue myself can I?

 

The dog
rolling in deer poop was the worst. He must think it
smells good or he thinks he needs some type of
doggie cologne or something, I can’t figure it out.
Anyway, he jumps into bed and I am immediately
looking at my shoes to see if it was something I
tracked in. He is looking at me with one of
those…"Who me?" looks and I find him covered. Off to
the shower for the two of us, another thirty minutes
to take all of the stuff off the bed… wash it and
remake it. I’m convinced that remaking a bed is an
art. You should have to get a license of some sort
if you want to do it right. I failed.

 

I did manage
to run the dishwasher as well as the washing
machine. Men never empty the dishwasher; they just
keep adding to it and washing the old things over
and over. So, if you use something like a potato
masher the first day, it stays in the dishwasher
until the thing gets completely full and you are
forced to empty it. Or on the other hand you could
just live out of it from day to day as I did and
keep using only one plate, spoon, knife and fork…and
a glass and a coffee cup. Works for me.

 

The final test
of forced single living is how men do the laundry. I
throw things into the machine until it gets full,
then do a load and then throw those into the dryer.
When the dryer gets full, I move everything to a bed
in the spare bedroom and sort everything into neat
little piles. I have a sock pile, a towel pile,
underwear pile and sleep stuff in another pile.
Saves having to fold everything and put it all away
into drawers when you are just going to use it again
tomorrow.

 

When my wife
got home late last night, she stayed up until
midnight getting the place back into the kind of
shape she is used to when she is in control. Her
last words as she came to bed were…"It’s easy to see
how you would live if I died."

 

I’m not sure
it that’s a compliment or not.