THE CRANKY OLD MAN
Random thoughts and stuff from a cranky old man. Humor (maybe), satire, and some politics, mostly stuff from a confused head.
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Monday, March 17, 2014
WHY I RUIN GOOD SHIRTS DOING CHORES - a cranky re-run
WHY I RUIN GOOD SHIRTS DOING CHORES
This cranky re-run is from March 2012.
Nothing upsets a woman quite like her man ruining a perfectly good shirt doing dirty chores.Why do men wear a good shirt to do gardening work, change oil, or paint a room?
Sometimes, I admit, we just do not think.If we see something that needs fixing while wearing a good clean shirt our one track minds go right to the task without even thinking of the consequences of dirt or grime.Often, however, the fault lies at the clean freak gene that makes up every woman’s DNA.
Women do not save dirty shirts.When a shirt gets a stain it gets thrown away.Often it gets thrown away as a penalty to her man for soiling the garment in the first place.Dig in the garden in a clean shirt; it will get thrown away.Do a quick paint touchup and drip onto your new shirt; it gets thrown away.Fix a sticky door and get grease on your shirt; it gets thrown away.Spaghetti sauce on your new shirt?Bye bye new shirt.
“Look what you’ve done!Now I have to throw it away!”
The next time the man plans to do a dirty job he cannot find a dirty shirt to work in.They have all been thrown away.
While I was married to the unstable wife, I had a beautiful pair of overalls.They were 45 years old.They were my Dad’s.They were broken in and comfortable.Paint and oil stains covered 80% of these overalls.The overalls had multiple pockets and hooks to carry hammers and screwdrivers.I loved those overalls.I kept them in my smelly basement on a hook by my tools.
When I prepared to work on a dirty job, I always put on the overalls.Even if I wore a good shirt underneath, the overalls protected everything.If I got paint on my hands, I could just wipe it on the overalls without guilt.They were perfect.
One day the wife assigned a painting project to me.I bought the paint,purchased new clean brushes and taped off all the molding. I removed everything that could be moved and covered everything else with a tarp.Fully prepared to start the job, I went into the basement to pull on my overalls.
They were gone.They were not on their hook by the tools.I went into panic mode.The wife noticed.
“What is wrong with you?”
“I can’t find my overalls.”
“Where were they?”
“In the basement on a hook by my tools.”
“That dirty old thing?”
“Yes, that dirty old thing.”
“I threw it away; it was covered with oil, dirt and paint.It could never be cleaned.”
“What!!Being dirty, oily and paint covered is what made them perfect.They could not be ruined.Plus they were super comfortable, and they were my Dad’s.They were covered with my Dad’s dirt, my Dad’s oil, and my Dad’s paint.I loved that pair of overalls!”
“I’m sorry; I’ll get you a brand new pair.”
My wife did buy a brand new pair of overalls.Crisp, clean, shiny and starchy.They even smelled brand new.They were about 100 washing machine cycles away from being comfortable.
I never wore those new overalls.I couldn’t do it.I could not bring myself to get them dirty, and they reminded me of losing my Dad.
I painted that room in a new clean shirt.It was a shirt that my wife had bought me that I never liked.I wiped paint drips all over it.When I was done with the room that shirt was an unclean-able mess.
When I was through cleaning up and putting the room back together again, I tore that shirt off and threw-it-the-fuck-away.
When I divorced the unstable-one several years later, those new overalls remained in the basement.I never wore them and refused to take them with me.
That is why I ruin good shirts doing dirty chores.
A St. Patrick's Day bonus...Irish Cooking lesson:
Boil everything. Before serving give food a taste test, if it has flavor, boil some more.