Somedays there just is a lack of important news items that deserve commenting on here at MisfitWisdom headquarters. I like to call it “headquarters” even though I only have a 8 by 8 room that I have to share with a spare bed, bureau, odds and ends and various photographs hanging on the wall of my other half’s relatives, some of whom could be mistaken for members of the Lewis and Clark expedition.
Anyhow, I’ve always wanted to write about how women drive men crazy with trivial stuff, and today seemed like the perfect opportunity.
Having spent many years on this earth, I’ve managed to go through most of my life not worrying too much about the small stuff. It just seemed to insignificant to concern myself with.
My other half, on the other hand, seems preoccupied with driving herself to the loony bin with constant fretting about stuff I wouldn’t even think of worrying about. Thereby driving me absolutely !#$#!!## nuts!
Let me give you some examples of why I’m considering either gagging her or injecting her with a tranquilizer in the middle of the night before she awakes in the morning. I think murdering of spouses could be avoided this way.
Dripping faucets is one of her main complaints. Especially the outside hose. Yeah, we pay for the water bill, but I’m thinking to myself, just how many drops of water per minute constitute a major water bill that I should panic and call in a $$$$$$$ plumber.
Yeah, there’s the leaving the toilet seat up crisis also. I don’t do it very often, but often enough that I begin to panic if I’ve left the bathroom and think that I may have left it up. I’m seriously thinking of building an outhouse just to solve that problem. Without a toilet lid.
Driving. I do most of the driving which leaves me open to criticism. Like leaving my directional signal on once in a while which drives her absolutely bananas. Flipping a finger at some inconsiderate driver also makes her go ballistic. Turning the radio on loud for a neat oldies song makes her reach for the remote control audio to lower it. And rolling thru a yellow light to avoid the red light sets her off. I’ve managed to correct these problems by making her sit in the rear…….which is fun because I have a Ram pickup truck. heh heh.
Sex with women we are married to or live with can also drive men to take their frustrations out on power tools and innocent pieces of 2 by 4’s. Remember when you were dating and you couldn’t keep you hands off one another? After years of living together the only time your hands can’t be kept off one another is if she’s reaching for your billfold and you’re attempting to fend her off.
Then there’s the dreaded shopping experience. Men love Home Depot, Lowes, even Wal-Mart, (certain departments) but women drag us through the women’s clothing section, grab a piece of clothing, hold it up and say, “Isn’t this beautiful.?” Now what the hell are we supposed to say as we’re fighting off instant narcolepsy. Try holding up a spark plug and asking a woman if it’s real neat. They just don’t get it. The only woman’s department I don’t have the urge to shoot myself in is the brassiere department…..only because I have a vested interest in them. (It’s a man thing girls)
Grocery shopping drives me to the point of grabbing a artichoke and choking myself to death. Not that I dislike grocery shopping mind you, but my other half stands in front of a shelf staring at the selection for 5 to 8 minutes hoping something will jump out that’s not there that she’s looking for. I’ve actually walked through the aisles picking up stuff almost non stop while she’s still staring at a loaf of bread to determine the yeast content of each slice.
My final gripe about women and their attempt to admit us into an assisted living facility at an early age is household chores. I don’t mind doing them, but I do them when I think it’s necessary. Like cutting the lawn. She panics when the grass is over 2 inches. I like to wait until I can’t see my car keys if I drop them in the grass.
Washing the vehicles. I figure I’d wait until pollen season is over before I wash them. She wants it done now. My only reprieve is to spray paint the vehicles yellow with a washable paint until pollen season is over.
Lastly, the weekly trash/bottle can day pickups. Now we have a posted schedule as to what and when trash is collected. But each and every weekday prior to trash pickup I’m told it’s “trash day.” You’d think I’d get it after all of these years. But nooooooooooo! She’s there to remind me. Ok, sometimes I forget…but that’s only because I’ve got a lot on my plate like managing the country’s economy, solving the deficit, the war in Afghanistan, terrorism and cleaning the cat box.
There are many more ways women connive to drive us crazy on a daily basis so that they can drive us to an early grave. For you guys with really good insurance policies, I’m sure its far worse. The lower the pay off, the less chance you’re going to be severely nagged.
So, my only suggestion to those of you guys who suffer from this problem…………………………………..
There isn’t one……………..we’re screwed. (sigh)
Copyright 2010 MisfitWisdom RLV