Nestled there in the warmth of Fred Firsts' Friday Pot Pour Ee, I see a challenge of sorts regarding how best to dispense the accumulated wisdom of the manly art of housekeeping to our spousal units. In Fred's post about the Dog Hair Collection Miracle (scroll down--archives are hammered), he notes:

What I have discovered is that eventually, the dog hair will come to me. If I just sit patiently, I can pluck it right there where my arm hangs down off the couch, right next to my beer. I consider it a wonderful observation that the fans, if turned up to turbo speed, in effect, create dog-hair tumbleweeds that move about the room, gathering more and more hair until by virtue of sheer weight, they gather in corners, or against objects, like the couch of which I speak.

Always an advocate of the jujitsu method in gardening, tax preparation and house cleaning, I have proposed to my lovely wife that we let the black hair self-collect in the manner I describe, while watching Gunsmoke, for instance. "I AM cleaning", I tell her, and hold up a wad big enough to stuff a pillow, while reaching for my Milwalkee's Best.

As incredible as it may seem, I am afraid she just doesn't get it. Is it a guy thing, being able to see with such clarity what is apparently hidden from feminine eyes? I am sure you have your own examples of this terrible dichotomy between reason and robotic tyranny to habit learned from mothers past.

Come on, guys, help me out here. Give me some more examples to hold up to my little missy to show her the pervasive male energy-conserving wisdom that is out there, such that can make wifely co-existance possible in our lifetimes, if only they will see the light. Bless their little hearts.

Fortune has smiled upon me, in that the lovely Miss Reba is no more inclined to picking a fight with clutter and debris than I am. Of course, this does mean that rather than trying to come to terms with the best way to pick up bits of stuff, we discuss how long it will be before we have to move to another house to escape the ever encroaching tide of Pokemon cards, shoe laces, Barbie accessories, hair barettes, bits of string, small sparkley notebooks, Hot Wheels, socks, books, jigsaw puzzle pieces, crumbs, skillets, bills, earphones, wrappers, and great huge wads of long, flowing girl hair which cling to every square inch of carpet in the house.

We estimate another three days before critical mass is reached.
posted by Terry at 10:20:00 AM