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Blogs > rm_bedlemprime > bedlemprime

honey-do days are just hell on earth  

rm_bedlemprime 63M
5 posts
4/13/2006 3:45 pm
honey-do days are just hell on earth
Sisyphus pushing his stone up the hill and Judas, Brutus, and Cassis being ground between the teeth of a three faced monster got off lightly compared to that modern hell on earth known as "the honey-do" day. With the warmer weather and longer days,we guys are finding ourselves being "volunteered" to do those various removations about the house that our ladies find so direly imperative.

Now, its bad enough when we are doing this for the wife, girlfriend or other significant other.At least with someone we live with, there are certain perks to the job.But, trying doing such renovations for your mother and you understand the frustration of my current existance. I understand now why dad used to wait until mom went to visit relatives before beginning a major project.By the time she got home, it was done and she couldn't very well rip it out and start over. Although, she has done exactly that over time.(She once started a sliding glass door project by taking out 8 feet of wall with a chain saw, in may.Dad and I put that door in the day after September's first hard frost.)

But, having the "foreman" standing directly over your shoulder while trying to peice togather a very tight and fiddling bit of work is it's own special type of hell.

It has been said that if there were no women, men would live like bears with furniture.I only partially agree.Our garages and workships would be quite nicely appointed, as well as any room with a tv set.(We would still have to have televised sports, although the porn industry without women is far too frightening to even consider.) Kitchens would be minimal at best and bathrooms would be..a hole in the backyard and a bucket with holes punched for showers? The worst, however, would be the male bedroom. Only women keep us from turning a bedroom into a boar's nest.Bless their little hearts.

So, we get home from a long day of trying to avoid killing the boss and stuffing his body in a dumpster, only to discover we have a major project to do, with a tight schedule and tighter budget. Any whining about, "I'm too tired", or "Not tonight", and we find ourselves sleeping on the couch and eating drive through. Women think this is punishment. It just reminds us of college. Add in a keg on ice in the bathtub and a half dozen Tri-Delts sunbathing topless in the backyard and it is the old frat house all over again. (And don't we miss those wonderful carefree days of our mispent youth?)

And if your do get right after that nasty little job and get it done to her satisfaction the first time out,(Yeah, right), do we get any reward that made all the fiddling and nagging worthwhile?A big fat prime rib perhaps? No,because it is bad for the heart and adds pounds they don't think we need.(Damn, woman, it's been a long winter.)Or maybe our favorite beer and a sporting event on tv? Nope,because that also is bad for our health and nothing annoys a woman faster then a man in front of sports. And the one thing we do get from the wife, girlfriend, or significant other female type just means more hard work for us at a time when we just want to be flat on our backs with a cold one in hand.(Insert your own smart ass comment here.)

So, we troop off to do what ever little chore we have "volunteered" for and there she is, breathing down our neck, adding various bits of suggestion and criticism as we manage to hit a thumb with the hammer, nip the web of the hand with pliers, cut a good size gash in an arm with the miter saw,(better our arm then waste the material making a mistake there) and so forth until that magical moment when you look at the woman breathing down your neck and you have that fantasy of how they would look with a hammer handle protruding from their forehead like a unicorn's horn.

This is the moment you need to step away from the job. Any excuse will do. You need to run get some parts, you need a special tool.Anything that gets you away before you commit a felony.If you find yourself thinking,"A jury of all married men would never convict me." Remember the opposite,"A jury of all married women will give you the chair." Then GET OUT, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, GET OUT OF THE HOUSE!!!!!!!!!!!!

Take a half hour and wander around the hardware department, play with the new gadgets and try to remember why you moved her into your house in the first place. It may be a bit difficult to recall at the beginning, but something will come to mind eventually.Then, fortified with strong waters and barley pop, go back, finish the job and simply answer,"Yes, dear" to whatever suggestion or criticism she makes about your handiwork. You will get your revenge during the World Series and Superbowl.

Of course, that works for married guys, but I am finishing projects started before dad died and mothers are a special breed of pain in the ass.You can't tell your mother to take a flying leap at a rolling doughnut.Nor can you storm out of the house for any length of time without getting a guilt trip of hebraic proportions. So, bite deep into that lip, finish the job, and then go find the tallest, coldest beer in the world. It works for me. Order at least three.

The nephew's bedroom is getting painted in the New England Patriots color scheme and with molding, door frames and other little odds and ends, it will take all of Easter Weekend to finish.His birthday is the 16th, it is a birthday present. After having to fiddle with a door frame today, and having dear mother adjust it 1/64th of an inch (I used the damn laser to ascertain that little factoid), it is going to be a long weekend.But, I will get fed.

However, if at any point over the next four days, you turn on the news and hear about a man running naked through the streets with a bloody hammer in one hand,a miter saw in the other and a paint brush hanging out his ass, screaming "SHE'S CRAZIER THEN A SHITHOUSE RAT AND I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE.", It's just me going to the bar after another long and fulfilling day of finishing mom's house.

Pray for me.

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