Works Like a Charm!
Now, the last time I addressed this subject was my blog back in November 2010. (I know, ‘cause I checked.) But some things never change, and my husband’s one of ‘em.
I’ll refresh your memory. Charlie had his heart set on getting a boot brush. I found one that was perfect: functional, nice looking, with the kind of rusty finish Charlie’s partial to. Worked good, ‘til the brush wore out, then we moved it to the shed. I mean the thing was shot. I forgot all about it, ‘til one day a modified version shows up on our front stoop. Get this, instead of having me buy a new boot brush, Charlie’d replaced the worn out old brush part with a new broom head, the kind you’d use to sweep your shop. Well, not replaced, exactly. More like he’d attached it on top of the old bristles. “Sure it’s ugly,” he says, “but it works like a charm.”
And there you have it, the difference between men and women summed up in nine words. For men, the second part of that sentence cancels out the first. For women, it’s the other way ‘round.
I was fixin’ to tell Santa we needed a boot brush for Christmas that year, but Charlie was so proud of his ingenuity, and the fact that he’d only spent $6.95 to make it “like new, only better.” I just didn’t have the heart to play hard ball. Besides, when you’ve been married as long was we have, you gotta choose your battles. But darn if that thing weren’t ugly as all get out!
Eventually, I started hinting ‘round. You know, making subtle suggestions. Maybe we could move the boot brush to the back door, off the deck. How we might get more use out of it there. At first, nothing happened.
Then one day, there the boot brush was, by the back door, off the deck.
“I thought it might work better, there,” Charlie says.
“Great idea!” I reply. And that’s where it’s been ever since.
Then last Saturday morning, I’m cleaning the kitchen, when out of the corner of my eye I see Charlie measuring something on the deck. He’s going back and forth to his shop, movin’ with purpose. Didn’t think nothin’ of it. ‘Til I hear the screw gun, and the penny drops: Charlie on some sort of mission, going back and forth to his shop, measuring stuff, the sound of his screw gun. Holy you-know-what! My husband’s doing some sort of construction project without female supervision. This can’t be good!
“Charlie, what are you doin’?” I ask, trying to keep the panic at bay.
“The boot brush was movin’ around too much when I wipe my feet,” he explains. “So I added these here wooden stops so it stays put.” Like this is the only logical option.
I stand there, stunned, staring at Charlie’s handiwork thinking, How about not wiping your feet so hard? Or, using your other foot to brace it? Or, oh I don’t know, get a new boot brush that weighted on the bottom, one that’s designed not to move? But no. Somehow, he’d managed to make the thing even uglier than before.
Charlie takes my shocked silence as admiration, “Clever, huh?”
“Wicked. Is that how you’re leaving it?”
“I’ll paint in when I do the deck.” Then all proud he goes, “Here, Ida. give it a shot.”
Oh, God love ‘em! Being the good wife that I am, I try brushing my shoes on the brush. Sure as shootin’, the thing stays put.
Charlie gazes down at his creation, smiles and says, “Works like a charm!”
That’s it for now. Catch you on the flip side!