Keep Your Mouth Shut And The Amazon Warriors Won't Kill You

Short of root canal, or driving nails into my own flesh, I would have to say that the thing I hate most of all, on the entire planet, is looking for a house.

The reason for this, I believe, is that my opinion doesn’t matter. I don’t get a vote. As the husband, I am an "un-person."

Do you remember those cell phone commercials, from not too long ago, where the wife keeps asking the husband’s opinion, and then does the exact opposite of what he says? Yeah, that’s my life. Don’t get me wrong. I love my wife, Brooke, and she tries her very best to pretend like she cares what I think. But, at the end of the day, my opinion matters about as much as the lint that you pulled out of your navel, earlier today.

Brooke: Honey, which do you like better? That 4 bedroom, 2 1/2 bath colonial, with the 3 car garage, and the in-ground pool, or that pit of poisonous snakes?

Me: Well, I just kind of thought that the house would be better. You know, for the kids and all.....

Brooke: Really? Because, I was thinking that the snake pit would be nice. Sort of different, you know?

Me: Well, wouldn’t they bite us?

Brooke: (Annoyed Sigh) You are a wimp, who talks like a muppet.

Me: Yes dear.

Brooke: Go do the laundry.

Me: Yes dear.

Brooke: And, stop talking back to me.

Me: Ye.......Sorry.

This isn’t always the case. When we AREN’T looking for a house, I am free to stumble through my daily routine, and try not to hurt myself, or those around me. I like it this way. We’ve been married for 11 years, and I have settled into the arrangement. BUT, when we start looking at places to live. We don’t see eye to eye. Honestly, I think my wife forgets WHO she’s married to.

She sees ugly walls, and says we can paint them.

I hate painting.

She sees ugly floors, and says that we can put Pergo in (whatever that is.) PLUS, we can do it ourselves, to save money.

The last home improvement project I started was two years ago. It’s still not done, and as of now all signs point to professionals needing to be called in.

She sees a one car garage, and says that we can make it work.

This is code for: "Casey gets to park in the snow."

Then, and this is one of my favorite parts, we have to think about "resale."

We haven’t even BOUGHT the house, yet, and we’re already thinking about selling it? Why don’t we stay awhile, and see if we like the place, before we start thinking about selling it.

So, Brooke starts thinking about ways to improve the house for the NEXT owners.

Brooke: If we buy this place, we should put in granite counter tops.

Me: What’s wrong with the counter tops that are there?

Brooke: Nothing. But, when we go to sell it, it will sell faster if we have the upgrades.

Me: Oh....Wait....Sell it? We haven’t even bought it, yet.

Brooke: I know. But, more people will want to buy it if it has granite counter tops.

Me: But, WE might want to buy it, and it doesn’t have granite counter tops. If that’s so important, why don’t we find one that already has granite counter tops?

Brooke: Because they might not be the color that I like.

Me: Oh....But, if WE put them in they might not be the color that somebody else likes, and that could keep THEM from buying the house from US.

Brooke: Is the laundry done, yet?

Me: No....Sorry.

The only family member that my wife will listen to, in matters like this, is my mother-in-law. Don’t get me wrong. I love my mother-in-law, and we have no issues.......Other than the fact that I married her daughter, and took her to another state so that she could never see her.

But, when my wife and I are together we are husband and wife. When my mother-in-law comes to town, my wife reverts back into "daughter mode." Then, as if by magic, I become the most annoying creature on the face of the planet:

THE BOYFRIEND WHO WON’T GO HOME!!!!!

If I suggest someplace to go for dinner, I am glared at.

If I try and watch something that I like, on TV (Buffy The Vampire Slayer?), I get the remote taken away from me.

If I dare to make some sort of "house" suggestion, I am savagely beaten to within an inch of my life by these two amazon warriors......They are both very tall.....Worse yet, they let my daughter watch. They call it "training." I don’t think I like that.

So, I try and keep my mouth shut. But, they keep pretending to WANT my opinion.

The problem is that inherently, as a male, I don’t need a house. I need a cave. I don’t care about the size of the bedrooms, or the number of closets, or the proximity to schools. As long as there is a soft pile of dirt in the corner, for me to sleep on, I am perfectly happy.

Those were the good old days. You found a cave you liked, and you took it. If another caveman already lived there, you would beat him over the head with your club, and make a loin cloth out of his flesh. You didn’t get into a bidding war, with anyone. The guy with the biggest club won. Period.

Just try doing that, today!!! Beat a guy over the head, with your club, and take his house. You know what would happen? Some scummy real estate agent would come in and charge you a 4 percent commission, based on an existing contract, on top of another 2 percent late fee for not have your club notarized, by a licensed notary IN their office. Then, there’s the whole "blood/murder" issue. But, still.......

Nope. You can’t do things like they did in the good old days, when men were men, and the law was what we wanted it to be, as we went along.

Sad, really.

Now, if you will excuse me, I have to go finish the laundry.

Casey