There is something inherently wrong in a world where grown men drape themselves across sofas and demand their wimmenfolk make them up some sammiches. Hillmomba is such a world.
Forget all the diet drugs and exercise programs and eating plans. I can easily prescribe a weight loss program for men. I shall call it The Make Your Own Samdamwich Eating Plan. Because the men would simply waste away. An intervention would have to be called after the first couple of months.
You'd think it was rocket science. Brain surgery, even. The act of removing two slices of bread from a wrapper. Laying them on a paper plate out of the Fine China wooden paper plate holder on the counter. Opening Frig to remove a pack of Land O Frost smoked ham, a pack of sliced Pepper Jack cheese, an opened bag of shredded lettuce, and a squeeze bottle of spicy mustard. Such a complicated series of events. You know, what with remembering to breathe in, breathe out at the same time. Or maybe it's their big ol' bear paws that can't manipulate the handle of Frig's door, or the zip lock on the meat and cheese, the pop top on the mustard.
On second thought, I misspoke concerning the rocket science and brain surgery. Of course men are able to perform those intricate tasks. And without even reading a manual or asking directions.
2 comments:
Strike! Refuse to wait on them. It is obviously too late for Farmer H, but you are training your sons to someday be husbands. Do the young women of the world a favor and start the classes slowly.
Here is a series of classes that will gradually
1. Find their butt with both hands.
2. Find the toilet bowl (and not the floor) consistently
3. Find the laundry basket and fill (or empty)--whichever is appropriate.
4. Find a can of something edible in the pantry--heat up in the microwave.
5. Find where the freshly-cleaned forks and spoons are store (dishwasher). Loading the dishwasher is too sophisticated of a task...will be taught at the next level of classes.
6. Prepare a simple sandwich (PB & J or cheese--NOT grilled cheese yet--they're not ready) and after eating on a paper plate, will wipe up the crumbs and throw away the paper plate.
The lessons get increasingly more difficult. But in the end, it will be well worth it.
Sioux,
Yes. I must nip it now. The Pony is very reasonable. He rarely asks, but waits for me to offer some form of kindness. And he always thanks me. The #1 son, on the other hand...
We used to have quite a struggle with the toilet bowl issue. So much so, that I accused a certain son of saying to no one in particular, "Look! No hands!" and then doing a kind of helicopter move while squealing "Wee wee wee!" like Maxwell the Geico piggy who was at that time just a twinkle in an ad-man's eye.
Filling the laundry basket has been accomplished. It's the emptying that's the problem.
Funny how when I, the SOMEONE who really needed to wash the dishes, put the silverware in the sink, I noticed three or four peanut butter knives. Seems like someone made his own sandwich a couple days while the SOMEONE was away.
THERE IS NO DISHWASHER IN THIS MANSION. Just to be clear. I'm lucky I don't have to haul the clothes down to the creek and beat them on the rocks.
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