Lifestyle: My Perfect Wife
Published by: Bart Franklin on Tuesday July 3rd, 2012
Let me start this off by confessing that my wife is perfect. I don’t mean that in a sarcastic way. She has just enough flaws to avoid being annoying. Her biggest flaw is in her choice of a husband; but, I digress. She is smart. She is educated. She is beautiful. She is loving and nurturing. She is responsible and thrifty. She is all of these things and more.
Did I mention she married me? Therein lies the problem. I am messy! Not dirty, mind you, just messy. I don’t see clutter. I don’t notice my desk is more prone to avalanches than any mountain. My workshop would be a hazardous place to be; but, I can’t find a way in.
Nancy is, bless her heart, a clean freak. She can’t stand clutter or any kind of disorder. Obviously we are a match made in heaven. I remember a time before I convinced her to marry me and condemn herself to life of clutter. We lived about 75 miles apart. We were talking on the phone, discussing our day, when I mentioned I had been cleaning the master bath. I was proud!
I expected a nice pat on the head and a hearty “Good boy!” Instead she asked if I had cleaned the red mark from the shower curtain rod. “What red mark on the shower curtain rod?” I asked. “The one at the top left hand corner” she replied. I went to look. I couldn’t find a thing. She gave me directions to this offensive spots location. This was a huge garden tub/shower combination. I had to put a ladder into the tub. Never a good thing for someone with severe acrophobia; but, I was on a quest.
Climbing up the ladder, clinging to the wall and curtain rod for support and comfort, I looked on top of the shower rod, just below the ceiling and all the way towards the back of the shower. There it was! A little red line about a pencil mark in width and about an inch long. With apologies to Archimedes and his tub, I did shout “Eureka!” I did not run naked through the streets, however. I then wiped the offending “filth” from the rod and my Darling was pleased.
I had to ask how she knew about the mark. She said she had spotted it last time she was at the house. I didn’t have the nerve to ask what she was doing to be in a position to see it. Some things men are not meant to know.