Situation Report: The Dog and I are locked in the “Bunker”, also known as “My Office”. Outside the door, we can hear the heavy thud of angry footsteps as my wife walks through the house, mumbling under her breath. I can’t discern what she is saying: possibly reciting prayers, asking the good Lord to “give her strength”, possibly reminding herself that she could easily bury me under the back stairs and no one would ever know.
Mood: Grim. The Dog looks up at me and through the look in his eyes seems to say, “Dude! What did you do? I spend most of my day licking my own privates, but even I wouldn’t have done that!”
What can I say? I wanted food and something to drink. She had just mopped the kitchen.
“Don’t walk on my floor!”
Does she think she married Spiderman? Does she believe I have the power to hover? Are we in some sort of weird role-play where she is the put-upon housewife and I am some sort of Mission Impossible Secret Agent that has to dangle from the ceiling to get a sandwich and a beer? Did I just say all those things to her out loud???
Yes. Yes I did.
As far as I know, the kitchen is a part of the house that BOTH of us own.
I know. I’ve checked the deed. Both of our names are on it!
Don’t get me wrong; I love my wife with every fiber of my being. She is my soulmate, and I am the luckiest man alive to have found her. However, the Dog and I are VERY hungry, our supply lines have apparently been cut off, and our reserves are dwindling rapidly.
Before I married my wife, I knew NOTHING about women. Now, thirty years later, I know NOTHING about women, but I have learned a few things about living with one of these brilliant and mystifying creatures:
Behind every angry woman stands a man who has absolutely no idea what he did wrong.
Been there, done that. Then, I went there several more times because apparently, I never learn.
Every time I talk to my wife, I have to remember that “This conversation will be recorded for training and quality purposes”.
Some things are better left unsaid, and I usually remember that right after I said them.
There is no point in my trying to understand women. Women understand women and most of the time, they hate each other.
Arguing with my wife is like reading the Software License Agreement: in the end you have to ignore everything and click “I Agree”.
Angry women can see into the future. They can remember stuff that hasn’t happened yet. Also, angry women can see into parallel universes: they can remember things that never happened in this universe.
Women always have the last word in an argument. Anything that a man adds after that is the beginning of a new argument.
A man is forced to be decisive. Right or wrong, you have to make a decision because life is paved with flat squirrels who couldn’t make a decision, and she will always answer, “I don’t know, whatever you want, honey.” Every. Single. Time.
Whenever my wife says “First of all” during an argument, I flee, because she has prepared research, charts, data, and is fully able to use all of it to destroy me.
A wise man once said: nothing.
That’s it. That is the totality of my knowledge regarding the female sex.
Always remember and never forget: Life is short. Smile while you still have teeth.