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Wife hates your couch potato habits

My Man

On Sundays, you like to lounge on the couch and flip through the channels or read a book. You hate it when you’re called upon to take up the ‘manly’ chores that are bestowed on husbands.

Such tasks like fixing cabinets, moving furniture to a different place — yet again — are pesky. And when it comes to the car, you hate anything mechanical, anything too physical — you always believe that plumbers and mechanics exist for that sole purpose. If you attempt to do their job, you will put so many of them out of employment.

Carol has a way of getting basic plumbing jobs done without involving you. Moving furniture around... she does it with the house help, without as much as consulting you. To your credit, you never ask anything about how the house looks afterwards, even when you have a better eye.

Whenever her car breaks down, she wants you to take it to your mechanic. Honestly, you think it is too much work. Initially, she knew you were busy and did the tasks herself, but now that she is expectant, she summons you to your lecture.

“At some point you have to be a man. You’re leaving even a simple broken drawer to me,” she corners you on a Sunday morning. “Just bring a fundi, I will pay,” you told her curtly.

“Come on, some of it is too basic to be wasting money on the fundi. You’re the only man I know without a tool box!”

“How many have you lived with?” You almost ask her, but you stop yourself. How can one be so insensitive and sarcastic on a Sunday morning?

“Honestly, I would care less if everything in the house was broken. We have a plumber on speed dial. I am too busy for that,” you tell her, hoping she will catch the drift to leave you alone.

“Busy doing what? Reading, or watching silly football matches? You never do anything in this house. I do everything, come on…”

Before, you thought she was being ridiculous... But now, she has just crossed the line. How could she call your love for soccer silly? How did people become so familiar? The contempt in her dismissal was stinging?

“What is broken that you want me to fix now?” you ask her.

“You should know, you don’t have to ask me. This is your house too,” she tells you in her characteristic rude tone that you love so much. And hate in equal measure.

“But you banned me from going to the kitchen or talking to the house help…”

“Please. Is that even an excuse? Are you even listening to yourself?” she asks angrily.

You hate anyone who uses that line, “are you listening to yourself?”, it reminds you of a Mr Odhiambo from high school who always threw it back you, every time you gave him a lame excuse why you did not do your assignment.

“I think you are being melodramatic, for no reason. Sometimes it helps that you just chill and go with the flow. Do not let small things like a broken cabinet ruin a moment…”

“How can I chill, when the house is in disarray…”

The disgust in her voice sends you out of the house to go looking for the Sunday paper, and look for a plot. Spending a day at home will only lead to quarrels, and you so much want to avoid such.

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