A few summers ago, Anne decided to do me a favor by mowing the lawn. While this was a very generous and considerate move on her part, she ran the lawn mower over 2 sprinkler heads and the plastic cover that houses the sprinkler shut off in the process.
Service call to the sprinkler guy: $150 dollars.
Plastic Cover for Sprinkler Housing: $25 dollars.
2 sprinkler heads: $100 dollars
Having your wife mow the lawn for you: Priceless.
Or something like that.
After we got the sprinkler system re-constructed I said, “Honey, I really appreciate the effort. But how about if you just leave the lawn mowing to me from now on.”
Fast forward to present time.
Before she left for work yesterday Anne said, “I’m realllly behind on laundry. Do you think you could run a few loads this afternoon?”
Me: “Sure, babe. No problem.”
By the time last night rolled around and it was time to fold all these newly cleaned clothes, it occurred to me that once again, I made pretty much the same mistakes I always make when it comes to laundry.
SOMEHOW, a handful of white clothes ended up in a load of colored clothes and emerged from the washing machine no longer white, but rather a nice rosy shade of pink.
Despite repeated warnings on the subject, I guess I also inadvertently put a bunch of sports bras in the dryer and they emerged looking not so much like structural foundation wear but rather like little teeny tiny sling shots that even Huck Finn would have a hard time finding a pebble small enough to fit in.
And because I forgot to clear out the laundry sink before starting the wash, the stupid-ass thing got backed up and about 100 gallons of used washing machine water overflowed the sink and completely ruined two piles of clothes that were sitting on the floor.
About what you’d expect in other words.
When Anne got home last night and I explained the situation to her, I was a little surprised that she didn’t seem all that upset.
THAT’S when the proverbial light-bulb went on in my squirrel sized brain.
In the 15 years we’ve been married, I’ve screwed up the laundry plenty of times. More than could be counted, actually. And yet she’s never ever said, “You know what, Mike, maybe you should just leave the laundry to me from now on.”
If she runs the lawn mower over the sprinkler heads, I’m out a couple hundred bucks. And if I shrink the laundry and turn it pink, she ends up with a really valid excuse to go out and buy a whole bunch of new clothes.
And to think it took me 15 years to figure this out.
Further proof that in the never-ending battle of the sexes: man may be smart, but woman smarter.