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Well, I’ve been retired for two years now, and the job still has not gotten any easier. I mean the house husbandry bit. I don’t know how women do it. Throw in the kids and their multiple practices, community organizations and the care of a parent or two, along with a husband – all after a day at a regular job – and it’s exhausting.

And let’s not forget the house cleaning. Oddly enough, if there is an area where I tend to do the best, it is here. I have a grandmother to thank for that. At least this grandson was never to be without those necessary skills to carry him through life, especially one that might have resulted in my remaining a bachelor. My grandmother certainly thought that mates are wonderful to love and to admire, but what if?

If one is to be successful throughout this whole process of keeping things tidy, one must defeat one’s most challenging enemies. Mine are the dust balls. They are everywhere. And it’s not like you can just lock them all up in one room and be done with them. They’re on all sides and even behind you; and as sure as the sun will rise, there will be more. I swear dust balls have babies. How else can there be such multiplicity in those dirty little creatures?

No wonder men hate housework. If they are into building houses, once a house is built, it’s done. Move on. Not so with dust balls. The room you clean today you will clean again tomorrow, and you will still be cleaning it 10 years from now. Dust balls. One of my favorite aunts had it going. When nobody was looking, she’d sweep the dust under the rug. Out of sight, out of mind.

Now, there is one place in the house that I am absolutely forbidden to enter: the laundry room. When my wife and I were first married, I wanted to show her how helpful I could be by throwing a load of clothes in the washer. One should certainly be aware of the differences between various types of fabrics, but at the time, who knew?

Among the items that I removed from the dryer one day was a beautiful silk sweater. However, it now was a bit small, and I knew we didn’t have any kids. When my wife saw that sweater, well, let’s just say that the media have policies against the use of certain kinds of vernacular. We have been in our present house for the past 18 years, and I could not describe our laundry room if someone had stolen it and placed it in a lineup.

Oh, by the way, I used to find it amusing when women complained about not knowing what they were going to cook for dinner. After all, aren’t there hundreds, maybe thousands, of recipes from which to choose? Well, yes, of course. So what’s the problem?

As it turns out, the newer the recipe, the newer the learning curve. And then there’s the matter of the five to 10 new and different ingredients for each recipe. Try finding all of them when shopping the aisles of a major grocery chain. It’s fine if everything is in the same location, but we know that to be impossible. Five to 10 different ingredients will be located in five to 10 different aisles. And what if the store doesn’t have everything you need? Does that mean you must drive to another store? There are only so many hours in a day.

What is the answer? One lady says she cooks what is familiar and quick, and if there are any complaints, she sends them to bed hungry, her husband included. Right. Try that with my wife.