It must be Genetics

If you saw my post yesterday, you may have noticed a little discrepancy.


The red armchair was shown as above, but when I put in the picture of our "good front room", there was an addition.

There is now a white cloth covering the upper back of the armchair.
Traditionally called an antimacassar, the white cloth is supposed to protect the permanent material of the chair.  Originally used because of the fashion of men in the 18th Century to :
A. Have long hair or pigtails
B. Groom their hair with Macassar Oil

Both conditions do not apply to me as:
A. I have bugger-all hair left
B. The last time I used any sort of hair oil, it was Vaseline Hair Tonic, borrowed from my Dad in the early 1960s.

So we don't really need the antimacassar, but my beloved put it on regardless.

Why?

I think it's built into the female genome.  I wouldn't be surprised that at this very moment, a wife deep in the Brazilian rain forest is berating her husband for not putting the palm frond back on his favourite sitting log, or in deepest Aberfeldy, a wife is reminding her hubby to "Put the bloody seat down when you've finished", or even in frozen Siberia, a kulak's wife is shouting at him because he brought some snow into the front porch. Again.

Someone's in trouble

All these things just give our ladies an excuse to nag remind their husbands who is really in charge at home.  Men do as they're told, redecorating, fixing shelves, mending breakages, unblocking pipes, killing rats and mice, repairing roofs, mowing lawns, putting out the rubbish.  All done in the (mostly) vain hope of getting  a little piece and quiet.

Ah well.

I wonder how long it will be before my beloved tells me that I've made the antimacassar squint/rumpled/stained/fall off the chair-back completely.

Probably less than 24 hours.

Kind of Like Anonymous. They don't forgive or forget either

Have a nice holiday.(It's Queen's Birthday, a national holiday here in NZ.)  See, another bloody woman who's getting her own way.

Make my Day....Punk