#54 Honey Do

My wife and I had relatives staying with us last week and it was refreshing to see how they shared their domestic chores. Guess what, I’m one of those modern guys who isn’t afraid to do dread and mysterious things like laundry!! I’ve always wondered why it is that Joe Normal American guy can tune up his pick-up, change the oil, negotiate the subtleties of a router, a reciprocating saw and a 48-bit cordless drill, assemble his toddler’s first bike from tubes, nuts, and bolts and yet not be able to understand wash, rinse, and spin?
When I worked retail, I once had a mom come in who was buying her college son clothes at Christmas time. She was very intent on making sure that everything was the most easy-care possible. To the point of buying everything 100% polyester just to make sure he couldn’t shrink, wrinkle, or fade it. She seemed a little miffed when I explained to her that it was actually possible to ruin polyester too if the young man in question decided to set the dryer on superhot. I was also a little young, and full of myself as well—a condition I’ve fortunately grown out of—and resented the implication that just because we had zip-front trousers us men couldn’t do laundry. I expressed as much to her and she said: “Oh no, my son is totally lost in the laundry room.”
“Perhaps he just hasn’t been trained,” I offered.
“No,” she said, “I tried to show him and he just couldn’t get it. Now he comes home every few weeks to have me do his laundry.”
“And he is how old?” I asked.
“Twenty-five.”
“And he is studying what in college?”
“Computer engineering,” she replied proudly.
“Hmm.” I said. “And he just can’t seem to figger out that there complete-icated washin’ machee-en. I think your son is smarter than you think.”
She just looked at me like I’d gone crazy. Their dynamic was easy to understand. She wanted to still be needed for something and he still wanted to need her. That’s cool.
I find my ex-sister-in-law’s sexism a little more disturbing. She, on the other hand, had nothing but scorn and ridicule for all men who couldn’t cook or do laundry and made a big deal about proclaiming her independence from all gender-biased actions, a stance with which I wholeheartedly agree. But lo and behold, when a thick snow fell one year, she thought nothing of trudging down to the Western Auto store and mewling pathetically to a young male attendant that she’d never put on chains before, and let him not only pick out the right chains but drive her back to her car and put them on for little ol’ helpless her. I don’t mind helping people in distress, but opportunistic hypocritical delicate flowers I can do without. Talk the talk, walk the walk, that’s my motto. And please, remember to separate your lights and darks.
America, ya gotta love it.