CATEGORY: HUMOR. Let’s be honest. Being a bachelor is not always without its domestic challenges. At the risk of coming off as chauvinist, I’m going to say something very chauvinistic. Some household chores are better left to women. Not because it’s a woman’s work, but because men are incapable. We are physically unable; our brains and limbs just don’t make the proper connections. We’re better off pushing a lawn mower around a yard where the most thinking we have to do is trying to figure out whether it’s worth running over the dog turds.
Let’s start off with fitted sheets. My enemy number one. Seriously, dudes, have any of you actually attempted to properly fold a fitted sheet? It’s impossible. It’s impractical. And it’s down-right ridiculous. And what fills this papa bear with the most frustration is that women seem to be able to fold them and have them look perfect. When I try, I get a big flubby wad of ugliness that doesn’t fit in the linen closet. Seriously ladies, how do you do it?
My second nemesis is definitely sewing. And I have tried to learn. And I’ve tried hard. It started in seventh grade with a home-economics class centered on sewing. I still have the butt-ugly t-shirt I made. If you can even call it a t-shirt. Since becoming an adult (if you can even call it that), I have tried several of my own sewing projects, and simple things too. Darning socks, sewing buttons back on, and stitching up small tears have all left me scratching my head at a mess bigger than when I started. I’ve had several lessons and I’m telling you, it’s impossible for dudes to do!
My third and very serious shortfall is cooking. And I’m not talking quality. I’m talking quantity here. Even if they know how to cook, dudes have no idea when they’re supposed to cook. I actually am a pretty damn good chef, if I do say so myself. I can go to a supermarket, walk aisle to aisle, and walk out with a cart full of ingredients which inevitably will combine into a pretty fantastic dish, invented completely in my head. But, the times that I actually do it are few and far between. The other 98.7% of the time I tend to opt for bachelordom starvation, barely dripping enough energy into my system to survive. It kind of makes me wonder if all of the “starving” kids on charitable infomercials are really just children living with single dads. Thank goodness Noah has a good mom and stepdad that can feed him the other half of the time.
Fourth comes my never-ending battle with stink. On top of being a dude, and therefore having no idea when my house stinks, I was not blessed with a good sense of smell. In fact, my sense of smell is pretty much non-existent. Thank goodness I have several sisters and a mother who don’t mind being brutally honest when they come over. I actually really like hearing the words, “you’re house really stinks” because then I can do something about it. If I never know, then it never gets fixed. All joking aside, one of women’s most important roles is to sniff out the source (my first wife literally could do it) of any off-smelling odor and eliminate it. For me, I just make sure to bathe my dog every two days and light candles before anybody comes over. Except for my mom and sisters, of course.
Dusting is my fifth and final archenemy (though I have hundreds of smaller household enemies). I literally don’t see dust, and I don’t think any dudes do. Women, though, they see a day’s worth of dust a day before it lands, and they have it cleaned up a day before that. As a bachelor, I just wait until the mound of dust starts blocking my view of the television or until I get disgusted looks from at least half of the women that walk in my house. Usually at that point though, they just do it for me. So it’s a win-win situation. I get my dust removed, they feel satisfied because they removed some dust.
And now you know my five biggest domestic weaknesses. And I am okay with all of them except maybe the fitted sheets. I hate them, hate them, hate them, hate them. And I bet all dudes do.
And if you really do want to learn how to fold a fitted sheet, here is a how-to video from YouTube. I still don’t get it. Oh well.
Dan Pearce, Single Dad Laughing