Several people responded to last week’s column about the differences between men and women. Neil wrote that all couples have similar experiences. My old friend, John, mentioned the control of the thermostat. One of my friends surreptitiously turns down the TV’s sound, but her husband always catches her. Anne was tickled by the image of Bill’s socks stuck to the floor.
Oh dear, I’ve had another kitchen calamity. I was quietly removing clean pans from the dishwasher and stacking them on the bar while waiting for my coffee to brew before going to admire the rose-colored sunrise. The stack grew too high and toppled down onto the cat’s water bowl. Kerbang, clash, clatter! Ms Kitty who had been “snoopervising” flew out of the kitchen. Water soaked my slippers and spread across the floor. “I shrieked, “Oh – - – - ! Of course it woke Bill up.
Thinking about our life together has carried me back to stories from the early years that I’m going to repeat. I figure that if I can’t remember what appeared in this paper several years ago, neither can the readers.
Shortly after our marriage, we bought a new refrigerator and decided to move the old one to the basement of the double we were renting. I said, “We’ll get a couple of friends to help.” “We don’t need help; we can do it ourselves.” I have heard this phrase ad nauseum, ad infinitum all during the years of our marriage. I learned early on that self-reliance is one of Bill’s prime traits. “Don’t worry! I have a plan. You just help me push the refrigerator to the basement door.”
There was much grunting, moaning and panting interspersed with “Left, Rose Mary. You’re pushing it to the right. Left, left, left!” “Whose left,” I yelled. “Yours or mine?” We manhandled the fridge to the basement door where we discovered that it was half an inch too wide. (This has also happened frequently during our efforts.) Sighing, Bill said, “Help me back it up — I’ll have to take the door off.”
He announced the plan: “I’ll tie this nice thick rope that I’ve been keeping in the trunk of the car around the fridge. Then we’ll lay the fridge on its back and lower it down the stairs.” He paid no attention to my query about the age of the rope. While we were laying it down, he yelled, “My toe! That was my toe! You always turn loose of things too soon!” True; this has been one of my many shortcomings.
Bill sat on the floor with his feet braced against the sides of the doorway and said, “Now, help me push it gently and slowly . . . Easy . . . easy, hon . . . That’s it! . . . “ Thus encouraged, I gave it a really hard shove. The old rope broke with a loud snap, followed by an awful grinding noise. As I left the kitchen, the last thing I saw was Bill, mouth agape, while holding a frayed piece of rope. I quickly tiptoed to the bedroom because even the stupidest newlywed wife knows better than to laugh in front of a spouse who is proud of his do-it-yourself persona. Along with the biblical injunction about faith, hope and love, knowing when to keep your mouth shut is also a key ingredient in a lasting marriage.
Other than a few dents, the fridge still worked perfectly. His stuff always turns out fine, but my botches — such as the time I cut the curtains an inch-and-a-half too short — can’t be fixed. wclarke@comcast.net