Friday, August 7, 2009

Soap slivers, T P rolls and the Diabolical 'Y'

In honor of my favorite day of the week, I think I am about due for a slightly lighter post ... why not, eh? My meds are all up to date :) go for it, sez I.

So - my husband is my buddy, right? I have very - very little to complain about where he is concerned (though - you'll note my immense talent in finding something... oh - shut up, he'd complain about me if he had the time to write a blog around his chores). He is truly a kind and loving man who (on a daily basis) turns himself inside out to please me. Don't misunderstand - I reciprocate ... I'm not taking advantage of him (though he really likes it when I do). But in many ways, I seem to exhibit the more commonly (in an antiquated sort of way) "male characteristics" and vice versa. He is home during the day with our girls and takes care of the general house work and laundry as well as working on one of the MANY items on "the list" ... I don't call it a 'honey-do' as we both pick away at it - but he is working evenings part time while we get through summer, so this is how it has been going. To be clear - there is nothing feminine about my husband. He is a man ... in fact, I offer the following post as proof positive that he is, in fact a "MAN". (Imagine air quotes here - they make a better point than actual typed quotation marks)

What is it with men, anyway? Is there some sort of adverse reaction that the 'Y' chromosome has with refilling something that is empty? No - SERIOUSLY, people ... my man scrubs floors - ON HIS KNEES, but can't seem to grasp the idea of filling the soap dispenser. Or putting the roll of toilet paper ON THE HOLDER. I went so far as to buy holders that do not require pulling the little flexy bar out (heaven forbid someone might pinch a finger) and then have to a) slide the roll on and b) have the dexterity to squeeze it back into the wall mount ... nooo - mine is a hook type jobby. All ya gotta do is slip the old one off and the new one on ... easy, pleasey - pass the cheesies - right? I even aligned the garbage can so it is DIRECTLY under the holder so you don't even have to take the empty anywhere, it drops right on in. (I usually scoop them out later to put in the compost, but I'd never dream of expecting this from my family) Why is it, then ... that nearly every single time I sit my rear upon the throne that the roll of paper I will inevitably require is sitting on the back of the tank ... hmm? It certainly is not in a convenient place for actual use. It is not ergonomically better than being on the holder ... so don't try to apply any weird man logic to this explanation. The only thing that makes any sense is that the additional chromosome is somehow blocking this action.

Then, there is the soap in the shower ... oh boy ... the soap in the shower. This is one of those topics that makes my teeth ache. There is nothing like getting into the shower first thing in the morning - half asleep ... actually in my case, barely conscious - and getting all kinds of soaked ... of course, I start with my hair ... so it's all about the shampoo, then conditioner ... which must stay on for several minutes in order to reach full effectiveness. Round about this time is when I am looking for a bar of soap. Now, hear me out on this folks - I realize that once in a while the soap is gonna get whittled down to a sliver and the offending washer is going to neglect to grab a new bar of soap with which to replace it, I have even been guilty of such an infraction ... but I have been living with this man for a DECADE ... and have never witnessed his ability to liberate a bar of Ivory from its package. Without fail, there is a cursing, drippy, conditioner soaked woman trekking across the bathroom to the linen closet to find the illusive package of new soap ... which surprisingly enough is THE FIRST FLIPPIN THING YOU SEE WHEN YOU OPEN THE DOOR. I even keep it at eye level, for crying out loud.

So ... in the interest of maintaining my title: Passiva Aggressionisto Ago-go - I thought I'd conduct a little sociological experiment:

Prove that a man would sooner go dirty than unwrap a new bar of soap.
1) Remember to take my own bar of soap in and out of the shower as I require (I know this is mean, but you gotta admit, it proves a point). 2) Allow current sliver of soap to be worn down to a non existent molecular footprint of what used to be soap. 3) Wait.

And wait.
And wait.

Finally after a week, I could stand it no longer. I had to put a bloody bar of soap in the shower. I don't know what he was using ... I'm guessing the shampoo. I mean he isn't smelly ... unless the devious little so and so found my soap's hiding place ... no. I'll bet he just used shampoo. WTF is that? I am fully gobsmacked over here. Is this some secret man conspiracy? Is there some clandestine 'Green Tent' that men go to every so often to learn from the elders all the tricks employed to drive their women crazy? My curiosity is piqued. I need to know. I have long bragged about the fact that my husband has evolved past 'knuckle dragging cave dweller' and is a true man of his time, but for this curious behavior to be exhibited by him, perhaps not so much ... maybe I should look for signs of him devolving ... what's next? A tail? Will he go back into the ocean?

Or ... maybe it is the simple fact that he is a "man" ... with air quotes.

Ergo ... I sigh.


Danica Dragonfly said...

Having shared this blog post with my beloved, he promptly reminded me of the bottle of Old Spice body wash that resides in my shower ... tragic, I know ... he insisted I print a retraction. So ... this is me ... retracting my statement about my husband washing his body in shampoo ... :)

Spot said...

Well, in your hubby's defense...i don't think it's a (air quotes) "man" thing. Because my teenage daughter was incapable as well. I think it's just a mommy thing that we do it. In the boys bathroom at our house, the tp holder got ripped off the wall and I just didn't replace it since they never used it anyway. And in the shower? Well no one ever throws out and/or replaces the empty containers of bodywash, face cleaner, shampoo or conditioner. Quite obviously, this is the bottle fairy's job (read: mine). I feel your pain.