Perhaps you read the recent Union-Tribune story about that woman who knocked on her coffin during her wake.
The thought that people can actually err about someone’s ing terrifies me.
I worry because I don’t always immediately respond when my wife tries to wake me.
In fairness, I could be feigning sleep, but that’s only because I’m confident she’s more than capable of handling whatever chore she might have had in mind for me.
My princess believes she’s living in some sort of fairy tale, thinking a wake-up kiss can somehow transform me into a prince of a window washer.
But all the household duties were diligently assigned a long time ago, so she shouldn’t be attempting to give me responsibilities over and above our agreed-upon obligations.
Basically, our arrangement provides that I take care of the trash and she handles everything else.
That apportionment evolved over the years and is based solely on ability. Perhaps I lack a few skills, but there’s little doubt about how capable I am at dragging the trash cans from the garage to the curb, a task that falls under my purview and one I carry out each week with great aplomb.
Sadly, I’m not that proficient at other chores.
Like vacuuming.
Or doing the laundry, dusting or ironing.
Or washing windows, the dishes, the car or the dog.
So I’m left with the garbage duty.
She handles 99 percent of the household chores, but seems to be OK about falling just short of what could be a perfect record.
Mowing the lawn was once my responsibility until I invested in artificial turf.
My wife didn’t think spending a small fortune on plastic grass was wise. Not only was it extreme, she argues, but it still left me with the job of raking dead leaves off fake grass.
That is until I purchased that leaf blower. It’s a practical appliance that allows me to quickly and efficiently blast the leaves into the neighbor’s yard.
My wife says she has serious concerns about my values, but I assured her the neighbor has no idea what I’m doing.
Sure I wrestled a bit about the moral issue, but the neighbor has a gardener and I’m certain the cost would be the same whether that gardener is raking just the neighbor’s leaves or a combination of his and what was once mine. It’s a fact that discharges any ethical burdens I might have held.
I may no longer need to mow the lawn or rake leaves, but on Thursday mornings, when the sanitation trucks show up, it’s my turn to shine.
But since I read that story about the woman who wound up banging on her casket, I’ve undergone a transformation.
Now I jump out of bed the moment my wife draws near, even if it means taking on duties beyond my area of expertise or outside my province.
Call it a resurrection.
It just might be a choice between pulling my weight or pushing up daisies.
Erdos is a freelance humor columnist. him at [email protected].
