Sorry all! Suffering computer issues! I’ll have to drop mine by Magic Mike’s for resurrection. So until then I’m back on Hubby’s Hoopty ‘Puter. That means this post is not only late, but will be short and sweet.
My house has been taken over by men. There are masculine things where there should be no masculine things. Like gym equipment in my dining room. Finding a battery charger (industrial size automotive variety) camped out there as well sent me over the edge. I went hunting to see if it was just me being overly sensative, or if the invasion was actual fact.
In the middle bathroom I have a short stool to put towel and jammies on at bath time. It was overloaded with Hotrod magazines and newspapers. Shouldn’t have snatched them up. (Mom warned me to always be a lady. Sorry, Mom.) When I did, an adjustable crescent wrench thunked down on my bare toes. As I hopped around clutchng my foot I yelled at the ceiling. Why was it even there? There’d been no plumbing going on. Stormed to the back door and slung it out into the yard. Don’t know exactly where it landed, and yes, I regret the fit of temper. I know it’ll come back to haunt me. I’ll probably find the stupid thing while mowing. Dang it.
I then collected nine–yes, NINE–rods and reels from bedrooms, living room and kitchen. How can one thirteen year old boy use that many at one time?!? Treble-hooked lures were on the microwave and in my nest of mixing bowls. A tackle box resided where my baking pans should be.
Just inside the back door Hubby’s horse’s grooming supplies –that belong in the shed–are set as a trap for me to kick over and have to pick up. Repeatedly. I decided to empty the dishwasher to calm my nerves and found three screwdrivers and a hammer in the silverware drawer. Went to soak in the tub and relax my irritation away. Opened the bathroom cabinet only to find a can of GOJO hand cleaner usurping the space for my creams and skin cleansers. GOJO belongs OUTDOORS so the greasy splatters don’t end up inside! Yeah, right.
Went to hide in my sanctuary: my office. I found three hunting caps that weren’t mine, and a duck decoy. Why a duck decoy? I don’t have a clue. I’m not using it as a prop to write by; I’ve never used it. Don’t intend to use it. I’ll own up to the police utility belt with flashlight, pepper spray, asp, ammo pouches, 9mm and two sets of handcuffs with keys. But not the mallard with the life-sized green head pointed at me, yellow beak ready to pinch if I get too close. (Yes, it’s very realistic. I’ve been bitten by ducks and avoid them like the plague.)
Wandered into my bedroom and spotted the small crystal dish on my dresser for my rings. My rings were gone. However, there is an air compressor quick-connect, three yellow wire nuts, two red ones, a drill chuck key and a foreign object I can’t identify. I want my pretty crystal dish back! I opened my jewelry chest to find all sorts of man odds and ends, Hubby’s and the boys. Tore a nail jerking things out. Searched for an emery board ten long minutes before I realized they’d been confiscated to file carbon off the spark plugs of the mowers and go-carts. Intended to trim a piece off a sheet of fine grit sand paper, only to discover the kitchen shears in the knife block were missing.
At that moment it dawned on me I have nothing in this house I can claim as solely mine! Masculine hands have latched onto everything, claiming them as their own.
In a childish fit of pique, I decided to get even. I dug out an extra cookie cutter. It now resides in Hubby’s toolbox. I’m gleefully hoping someone else finds it and taunts him with it. I put sample vials of perfume in the grandson’s tackle box. Hope one gets crushed and he gets teased by his fishing buddies every time he opens the lid and the light, feminine fragrance wafts into the air! I emptied a plastic box of hooks from Hubby’s tackle box then put it back. When he opens it in the middle of a fishing trip and finds it empty, he’ll know how I feel when I discover my box of Brillo pads under the kitchen sink have all been used cleaning rims and chrome on the truck!
Then I found one item I found I had to call the grandson about. He’s visiting in Washington State right now, so you know my curiosity was great. I asked what it was and he started snickering.
I’m including a pic of it so you know I’m telling the truth. But I started laughing so hard I got over my mad.
Oh, yeah, he’s definitely growing up and the boy hormones are on the rise. He dressed his bait box in a thong!!