Boomerang

The other day I came up with a great topic for gender difference, you know, the central topic of our blog. Then I was forced to eat crow.You see, as most men will confirm, woman have a tendency to forget the little things. Oh no, they’ll remember that you forgot their birthday 22 years ago. Those issues are important. But when it comes to the trivial stuff like where did they put their car keys or their cell phone, … well you get the idea. I know when ever I hear the words, “Where are my keys,” they will be followed by, “Michael!!!!!, what did you do with my keys.” That phrase is never followed by, “Oh, silly me, I forgot I left them in the car.” Or “My fault, they were in my pocketbook all along.” Even though that’s where she finds them, I still never heard, “Sorry, sweetie. It wasn’t you after all.”

Don’t worry. We men are experienced at taking the blame for things we did not do. We figure it’s why you married us, you need someone to blame because as we all know, ladies are perfect. But lately, it’s been getting worse, I mean, well here’s an example. Now that we’ve passed the fifties milestone, she’s become severely afflicted by forgetitus. I’m accustomed to going behind my wife and shutting the fridge door, or closing the outside door she leaves open in the winter, or cutting the stove off (yeah, that one scares me), or charging her cell phone and replacing it in her purse so it will work when she needs it, just those little things. Sadly, over the past 3 months, I’ve become afflicted myself.

The most serious case was this morning when I hear her high pitched scream from the bathroom. When we travel, I always cut off the water heater. It saves electricity and if the bottom of the vessel busts (it’s happened), then the elements inside won’t burn down the house. Only this time I forgot to switch it back on when we got home the night before. Actually, I love the image of a woman running around in the buff, but not when she is chasing me with daggers in her eyes yelling “I’ve only got thirty minutes till they pick me up for the garden club meeting.” Problem is, I’ve done this three times in as many months. No, it’s not some cruel attempt at payback (that’s a different post). I’ve just become contaminated by forgetitus. So, guess I’ll eat crow on this post since the idea boomeranged on me.

See ya in a few weeks.

Big Mike
Davisstories.com