House Woes

She Said He Said June, 2009 Evince

She Said

It's spring and while a young man's fancy turns
to love, this old lady's fancy is turning
towards a house. I would like one that was post
Civil war instead of pre-Civil war. I had a
garbage disposal installed only to find out
that the pipes are too old and narrow for it
to work properly. The freezer door only opens
half way so if I want to put something oversize
in it, I have to pull it out from the wall.
I bought a stove and a "friend of a friend"
of yours installed it so I'm constantly in
fear of looking like I was pardoned thirty
seconds after the switch was pulled every
time I turn it on. The only one who enjoys
my tiny bathtub is Sophie (my standard poodle)
and I usually end up more drenched than she
does. My windows have never been thoroughly
washed because I can't get the storm windows
off and back on again. When I took the screens
off, I just stacked them in the basement for
the next owner to enjoy. Curb appeal...the
shrubs were so outdated that I decided to
trim them but it turned out to be more of
a butcher job. They all died. I connected
the washing machine only to have my neighbor
call and tell me water was running out of
the basement door. So I called a plumber
who knew just slightly more than I did
about plumbing and two days after he left,
I discovered that he had burst a pipe in
the basement. Water had soaked my out of
season wardrobe and boxes of treasures
stored away. The least he could have done
was to inform me before he left. I have
painted each room so many times that the
square footage is shrinking considerably
year by year. My pride and joy is my garden
window in the kitchen. It doesn't matter
that I don't have a green thumb...silk flowers
look great. So the difference between us is
that all of these little nuisances are Venus
issues and you are satisfied with living on
Mars. Do you think we could look for a place
halfway in  between...my geography isn't
very good but Hawaii would be acceptable.

He Said

Let me tell you why men go into their caves,
or retreat to Mars on a regular basis. Go
back and read what you said. To you it has a
meaning, a deep meaning. Now I love you,
so don't get offended by this, but all I read
was blah, blah, blah, blah and more blah.
I did not pick out your house. All of that
whining is probably very important to you.
What about the war in Iraq? What about the
starving children all over the world? What
about breast cancer? What are we having
for supper tonight? I mean really, I did not
see one item that couldn’t be fixed, except
maybe moving your house to Hawaii.  When I
mentioned retiring to Myrtle Beach, your
answer was something to the tune of too
crowded, too much beach, too many weirdo's
or something to that affect.
Maybe you were just having a bad day when you
came up with all these ideas of how bad your house
is. It sounded more like a Dear Abby letter to me
just to get it off your mind. Don't take offense
because any problem you have is either my problem
or turns out to be my problem. So let's look for
some solutions for you. Knock out the wall for the
refrigerator. Get a real electrician to re-connect
the stove. Find a home for the dog so you don't get wet.
Buy new windows. Pave the yard. Buy new wardrobe.
Put up wallpaper in each room. All problems solved.
You are happy. I am happy. We move to Hawaii
or to Myrtle Beach and live happily ever after.
Oh and by the way, what is for supper?