Devious and Evil Women

There are times in a man’s life when, although this is rare, whatever just happened is not his fault.

Take last night, for example.

About two or three days ago, Buddy the Puppy had escaped from his Laundry Room Night-Time Prison, and had made it to the front door. Because this was early morning, and we had gone to bed early, his ‘bathroom cycle’ was off…and he pooped directly in front of the door.

Sunny came home from work, and I think the expression is she “Just stood up all in it.”

So, it being early in the morning, after a long night’s work, she simply removes her shoes, puts them outside, comes in, cleans up what’s left of the doo-doo, and goes to bed.

She forgets about the poopy work shoes that night, and wears sneakers to work.

This means her work boots have been outside, in the 90 degree heat for two days.

Which brings us to last night.

Sunny takes her before-work nap, and I wake her up at the time she asked me to. Five minutes later she says:

“Dammit!” She’s getting dressed at this point. “Paulius, can you go outside and see if you can knock any of that dog crap off my work boots?”

Of course I can. I’m a good husband!

So I go outside, I get the shoes. I whack them together, on a wall, on the floor, try to scrape them on the floor. Unfortunately, the doo-doo has obtained the consistency of concrete.

So I come back inside. “Sorry sweetie.” I said. “The only way those are going to get clean is if you blast them with a hose pipe or something.”

The answer was one I wasn’t expecting.

“Grrrr. Can you at least TRY?!?”

“Uh, I did.”

“Well, I need them for work, you know!”

Ok, ok. In Sunny’s defense, she had been up and about all day, got very little sleep and had just woke up. I, myself, am crabby as hell first thing in the morning, but…

Here’s the deal, ladies. You can all learn from this.

1. Sunny steps in dog poo.


2. Sunny does not clean dog poo right away.


3. Sunny completely forgets about dog poo, until 15 minutes until she leaves for work.


4. Sunny asks me to clean dog poo.


5. Dog poo cleaning : Impossible.


6. This is somehow all my fault.

I’ve finally worked it out. Women’s minds work like that of the sly executive. Namely, you screw something up to where it’s beyond saving, then, at the 11th hour, make it someone else’s responsibility…and can blame them for the project’s failure.

That way, the fact that I had nothing to do with Sunny soiling her shoes, the fact that I didn’t make her wait until the last minute to do something about it…it’s still my fault because I couldn’t clean them in the 5 minutes before she left for work.

There’s other stuff that supports my Sly Executive Theory. She’s amazingly good at spinning things, making things sound a lot easier and more fun than they are and giving you the illusion of choice, where really none exists.

Take this example, also from yesterday.

It’s an hour or so before Sunny goes to lie down before work. Out of the blue, she looks around the room and says:

“Ok, there’s only three more things we need to do before your parents get here.”

“Oh, dear lord.” I mumble.

“We need to get the place vacuumed really well, the inside of the front door needs painting, and all the laundry needs folding.”

“Ok, I’ll paint the front door.” I said.

“No, you don’t understand.” She says. “This is all stuff for you to do.”

(Point one, from ‘we’ to ‘you’ in five seconds flat.)

Then, she writes a list. It has five things on it.

(Point two, the workload doubles in five seconds flat.)

Then she says:

“It’s not hard, just pick one to do each night when I leave for work.”

Then, right before she leaves, she says:

“Do you want me to take this curtain down?”

“Why?”

“So you can paint the door.”

(Point three. She’s already decided what I’m going to be doing that night. The choice doesn’t exist.)

Let me just state for the record that I don’t actually mind doing any of this, I just like how, without any input from me, she shifted gears smoothly from “We need to do these three things in no particular order.” To “YOU need to do these FIVE things, in the order I choose.”

Women, can’t live with ‘em…and if you kill one they call it murder.