Print ArticleBy Bob Batz
Women are so sensitive.
The other day I told my first wife Sally, "If they ever bring the Antiques Roadshow television program to the Dayton-area, I´ll take you to it."
As usual, she took my statement the wrong way and didn´t speak to me for three weeks.
Stuff like that happens to me all the time, especially when I´m looking for something I´ve . . . um . . . misplaced.
"Have you seen my brown shoes?" I ask.
"Yes," she replied.
"Good, " I said. "Where are they?"
"Where are what?" she asked.
"My brown shoes," I replied.
She smiled. "How should I know? Y´know, you´ve got to keep better track of your things."
She´s right about that, of course.
Last year alone I misplaced my car keys at least three dozen times. I also lost four shovels, a rake, three hose nozzles, a picnic table chair and enough socks to stock several men´s stores like you see at the mall.
I seriously believe my wife is losing patience with me when it comes to my penchant for losing things. Just last week I asked her "Hey, Sweetums, do you know where the tweezers are?"
"Huh?" she replied.
"The tweezers," I said. "I can´t find them anywhere."
"Did you look in the silverware drawer in the kitchen?" she asked.
"No," I said.
"Good," she said, "because they aren´t in the silverware drawer in the kitchen."
I took a deep breath, counted to 5,567 and continued. "Then . . . where . . . do . . . you . . . suggest . . . I look . . . now?" I asked in a slow, measured tone.
Sally eyed me suspiciously. "Why do you want the tweezers?" she said.
At that point, I found myself tiring of her little game of cat-and-mouse. "Because . . . because . . . I want to tweeze something," I replied.
That´s when it suddenly dawned on me that tweezers are one of those household doodads people don´t talk about very much and tend to pretty much take for granted, like flush toilets, crab grass and mothers-in-law.
Tweezers, however, have been around for centuries.
The first tweezers were two sticks of wood that were used to pinch another stick in the Stone Age. It is also believed that tweezers were used in ancient Egypt and by Mesopotamians who used tweezers to catch lice (yuk!) and pull nails out of construction projects.
Over the years, tweezers have been used to do everything from plucking eyebrows to panning for gold.
When I finished explaining the long, rich history of tweezers, Sally said, "That was a really nice presentation. The tweezers are in the little box in the bathroom. They´ve been there since we moved into this house two years ago. They will probably be there two years . . . no, make that 200 years from now. And, hey, please don´t lose them on the way back, OK?"
I didn´t even smile.
Contact Bob at bbatz@woh.rr.com
2008 North Star Writers Group. May not be republished without permission.
Women are so sensitive.
The other day I told my first wife Sally, "If they ever bring the Antiques Roadshow television program to the Dayton-area, I´ll take you to it."
As usual, she took my statement the wrong way and didn´t speak to me for three weeks.
Stuff like that happens to me all the time, especially when I´m looking for something I´ve . . . um . . . misplaced.
"Have you seen my brown shoes?" I ask.
"Yes," she replied.
"Good, " I said. "Where are they?"
"Where are what?" she asked.
"My brown shoes," I replied.
She smiled. "How should I know? Y´know, you´ve got to keep better track of your things."
She´s right about that, of course.
Last year alone I misplaced my car keys at least three dozen times. I also lost four shovels, a rake, three hose nozzles, a picnic table chair and enough socks to stock several men´s stores like you see at the mall.
I seriously believe my wife is losing patience with me when it comes to my penchant for losing things. Just last week I asked her "Hey, Sweetums, do you know where the tweezers are?"
"Huh?" she replied.
"The tweezers," I said. "I can´t find them anywhere."
"Did you look in the silverware drawer in the kitchen?" she asked.
"No," I said.
"Good," she said, "because they aren´t in the silverware drawer in the kitchen."
I took a deep breath, counted to 5,567 and continued. "Then . . . where . . . do . . . you . . . suggest . . . I look . . . now?" I asked in a slow, measured tone.
Sally eyed me suspiciously. "Why do you want the tweezers?" she said.
At that point, I found myself tiring of her little game of cat-and-mouse. "Because . . . because . . . I want to tweeze something," I replied.
That´s when it suddenly dawned on me that tweezers are one of those household doodads people don´t talk about very much and tend to pretty much take for granted, like flush toilets, crab grass and mothers-in-law.
Tweezers, however, have been around for centuries.
The first tweezers were two sticks of wood that were used to pinch another stick in the Stone Age. It is also believed that tweezers were used in ancient Egypt and by Mesopotamians who used tweezers to catch lice (yuk!) and pull nails out of construction projects.
Over the years, tweezers have been used to do everything from plucking eyebrows to panning for gold.
When I finished explaining the long, rich history of tweezers, Sally said, "That was a really nice presentation. The tweezers are in the little box in the bathroom. They´ve been there since we moved into this house two years ago. They will probably be there two years . . . no, make that 200 years from now. And, hey, please don´t lose them on the way back, OK?"
I didn´t even smile.
Contact Bob at bbatz@woh.rr.com
2008 North Star Writers Group. May not be republished without permission.
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