Friday evening, my doorbell rings. I stay here on the computer while my lovely wife answers the door. Apparently, the conversation at the door went something like this:
Neighbor: Hi, ma'am. My lawnmower won't start and I was wondering if I could borrow yours. Is your husband home?
Lovely Wife: He's here, but you can go ahead and borrow it.
Neighbor: Thanks, but I still have to ask your husband.
Lovely Wife: That's not necessary. You're welcome to use it. (To me: Honey! Open the garage please!)
She told me of the conversation and added that she wondered if he saw her roll her eyes when he persisted that he had to ask me instead of her. Here at Chez Bez, we do things a bit differently. None of that man of the house crap. We are a team. We are equal.
Now if he had wanted to borrow my latest issure of Glamour, that would have been a different story. And my Gilmore Girls tapes don't leave this house. The man has spoken.
2 comments:
You GO, boy—on the teamwork front AND on your Glamour magazine. I subscribe to that magazine and the boys and men have always poured over it. In fact, my latest issue is in a male friends house right now, he asked if he could take it home!
And how nice is it of you just to hand out your lawn-mower. How well do you know this neighbor, I wonder. My neighbors barely speak, except for one crazy one.
Thanks for the kind words.
I'm happy to loan it out to my neighbors, but no one's as tight as we should be. As with most neighborhoods these days, we only see our neighbors when the power goes out.
Suddenly, when no one's TVs or computers will work, everyone walks outside. Kinda funny really. But a bit sad as well.
Post a Comment