Column: One man’s garbage is another man’s superiority complex

I married my handyperson.

This marriage, initiated 35-plus years ago, has been essential to my survival, because I have no experience, and certainly no expertise, in matters mechanical. I understand that there are nuts, for example, and that there are bolts; but as to which is which, I am largely clueless. I understand that bolts need to be bolted, but don't nuts need to be nutted? Also, nails vs. screws: Nailed? Screwed? I find myself asking: Why quibble?

So here at our homestead, my wife happily accomplishes any task that requires analytical skills, or tools. Especially power tools. It would be dangerous to let me touch the power tools.

Accordingly, I have been relegated to the safe, mindless jobs. I’m so happy to do my part! I scoop the cat box. I clear the dishes after dinner (we call this "kitchen duty"). Over the years, I have only broken a few dishes during kitchen duty. and I empty the dishwasher (we call this "dishwasher duty"). I have only broken a few more dishes during dishwasher duty.

I also put out the flag on the front of our house every morning, to demonstrate our patriotic fervor; and I bring in the flag every evening, at sundown, to show proper respect. and I take out the compost on Tuesday evenings for early-Wednesday-morning curbside pickup, and take out the recycling and the trash on Wednesday evenings.

I also ... wait, I’m thinking ... I’m sure there's something more....

Oh, wait! I do my own laundry! Yeah! and ... uh, I’m sure there's something more.

Let me think.

(Thinking, thinking....)

No, I’m sorry. That's it. My wife mows the lawn. She trims the cats’ claws. She keeps the house clean. and she works a full-time job. Which she often has to go in to the office for.

So to be clear: I’m a lazy stay-at-home senior-citizen empty-nester spouse.

It's not easy! It might be easy if the routines stayed simple. But the routines are not reliable. Like when there's a holiday. Last week, when Memorial Day fell on its federally mandated Monday, the Ipswich trash-and-recycling pickup schedule was delayed by a day. Delayed! By a day! A whole day!

This is a life-shattering wrench in the machinery for someone who's trying to manage basic household chores with limited bandwidth. Someone like me.

It's not just a little "calendar glitch." Think what this actually means. Instead of putting out the recycling and the trash on Wednesday evening as usual, I need to put out the recycling and the trash on Thursday evening. If I don't tune in to the holiday-week schedule change, my stuff doesn't go away the following morning, and I’m stuck with it for another long, cluttered, smelly week.

On the other hand, if I’m fortunate enough to remember the holiday-week schedule change, I can look out my front windows and see which of my neighbors have forgotten about the holiday — because they’ve pulled their trash and their recycling to the curb a whole day ahead of schedule. I’m suddenly superior.

I would delight in their failure, except that I’ve been the idiot so often.

Well, I bring you good news. Last week, we observed Memorial Day. and I remembered — in advance — the goofed-up trash-and-recycling schedule. I got our stuff out to the curb the night before.

Yes, I did forget to bring in the flag. Disrespectful, I know. Sorry.

And I forgot to scoop the litter box. Sorry, cats. Sorry, wife.

But otherwise, I was golden.

Doug Brendel lives in Ipswich and is such a loser. Don't even bother to follow him. But if you want to nose around in his miserable domain, you might visit DougBrendel.com.

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