Husbands’ work is never done!

Pat Fule Fule for Thought If there’s one thing I’d like know, it’s where certain marriage customs and traditions began. How did we get the roles and jobs in our marriages? Take Christmas lights, for example. By now, you all know I hate putting up outdoor lights, and that I’m forced to do this. Who decided that putting up coloured lights high on houses, equals Christmas Spirit? How does lighting up a house like a Vegas casino every year, tie in to the Baby Jesus’s birth? Yet every Christmas, husbands around the world, climb rickety ladders, brave gale force winds and snow, and risk their very lives, to light up the night! I mean, it’s like you’re in a circus act, or something! There are lady trapeze artists in circuses … why can’t the wives put up Christmas lights? Why does the husband have to be the guy from the “Flying Walendas?” I’ve fallen from a ladder, and I’ve really come to fear the falling and the landing! As far as I’m concerned, there should be three Christmas light options: no lights, our wives put up the lights, or we string lights along the sidewalk! Another job husbands have gotten over the years is the “security guard.” Allow me to explain. If there’s a squeak, creak, or thunk, it’s the husband’s job to find and neutralize the noise. It doesn’t matter who or what may be lurking in our dark house, we “boldly go” where no one else wants to go! Now, I have no martial arts training, I’m no Army Ranger or Navy SEAL. In fact, the only fight I’ve been in was when I was 11. We were rival paperboys and he had been bullying me, so I followed (stalked him) on his route. We punched each other in the face, walked away, and that was the extent of my “fight club!” So this is the typical training we husbands get in order to face the “burglar” in the night! God knows why, but we also seem to be able to find some sort of weapon in the dark. Yes, how many of us “ninjas” have grabbed a tennis racquet, flashlight, or even a lamp, to square off with the enemy?! I’m sure glad I’ve never met an intruder face to face – I’d hate to wreck my perfect fighting record! I don’t know about your house, but in mine, I’ve become the “terrible smell/mess remover.” My wife Debbie, has a nose that’s almost as sensitive as your typical bloodhound! Something in the garbage, a slightly moldy strawberry, all can make her instantly queasy. I’m the guy responsible to manhandle and remove spoiled potatoes, smelly garbage bags, and sadly, the odd “rover” mistake! The first 10 minutes in our newest home last year, was one example. The previous owners had two little dogs, and our beloved Brodie decided he had to mark his territory. A 13 year old dog who never made mistakes indoors, managed to pee and crap on the downstairs carpet! When Deb saw this, she literally turned pale and had to look away. Then my unique super powers kicked in, and I scooped up the poo, and Green Machined the pee spot. I was like a Special Op on a dangerous mission! Meanwhile, my guilty looking dog had become my foreman, and quietly watched! In fact, over the years, I seem to have become his personal valet, his butler, if you will. I feed him, walk him, and shovel up his crap from the back yard! I’m really livin’ the dream! I know that wives also have numerous jobs in a marriage, but I sure am curious as to how these chores got divided the way they did! Of course, I don’t want to complain too much. I mean, they get to deal with labour, and I’ve seen that twice … ouch! In fact, if chores were a game of Poker, not having to give birth would be like holding four aces every time! (“Fule for Thought” is a slice of life humourous column that appears in the Strathmore Times, written by long-time resident, town councillor, high school teacher, coach, husband and father of two – Pat Fule. If you would like to get in touch with Pat, you can send him an e-mail at Pat.fule@shaw.ca)