Any men who have not yet figured out that the WOMEN have the upper hand or how life really works should not read any further.
If my daughter is reading this, DON'T.
Log off and go and make his tea; you really don't want to know what happens between your Mother and Me in the Hours of Darkness.
[continued from yesterday]
I considered my options. On the one hand, my transgression was not that (from my viewpoint) severe. So I was late, not that big a deal. But I had been late every day this week, and I had missed our Friday night swim (The family that swims together, clings together and very probably, drowns together)
I ran down the list of jobs remaining undone.
|A Man job, seemingly|
Dusting the high places of the house
Strip & Clean the cooker
Fix the little wooden chair
|Her perfect Birthday gift|
(Note to blokes. Subtlety is an essential tool in our constant battle for love, tenderness and occasional intimacy. There are actually times when a bigger hammer just won't do the job. I know you might find this odd, but it is true.)
If I just came out now, and offered to clean the cooker, then this would be taken as an expression of guilt, and under the strange rules ladies operate under, the credit value of such work is ZERO.
Subtlety, remember, subtlety.
I went away and got changed before we had tea, and thought carefully as I examined the paint, blood and other stains on my trusty Army shorts. Subtlety.
After we had eaten, and as I was washing and putting away the dishes, I casually mentioned to my beloved that there appeared to be some burnt deposits on the cooker.
I offered to clean the cooker, thoroughly.
Come on, I'm a bloke, what did you expect?
It took a real effort of will not to use the 20lb sledge hammer lying cleaned, oiled and ready for instant use on the tool wall in the garage.
|A bloke, using a bloke's tool, to do a bloke's job|