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Let me begin by stating that I absolutely love to do household chores. (The most impressive thing about that sentence is that I was able to type it with a straight face.)
Ever since the time I was doing the laundry and accidentally turned on the dryer without knowing the cat had snuck inside it, I have been leery of helping out. (That was my excuse, and I ran with it.)
Now, before you become concerned about the unfortunate mishap with the kitty, I want to assure you that the feline was fine. However, it is interesting that it takes two full minutes for a cat’s eyes to refocus after going for a tumble on the delicate setting. (It’s somewhat sad that I know that information from personal experience.)
But that incident happened quite some time ago, and you can only get so much mileage out of a flimsy excuse to avoid helping out around the house. My wife had grown impatient with my noticeable lack of effort, and she insisted (in her usual less than subtle way, meaning at the top of her extremely healthy lungs) that it might be a good idea for me to start doing the laundry again. (As long as I knew where the kitty was at all times.)
Naturally, my first inclination was to wear the same clothes for days on end, because, obviously, having less to wash is the simplest way to help. (And, as my long-suffering bride can attest to, I always look for the easy way out.) But, I admit, there is a lot to be said for CLEAN underwear. Just ask anyone who needs a pair.
So, having run out of weaselly excuses, it was back to the daily drudgery of washing, drying, and folding. I was a broken man. With a heavy heart, I had become resigned to my life of indentured suffering, and I assumed that my fate was forever sealed. But then suddenly yesterday, out of the blue, the menial task turned into a virtual gold mine when, lo and behold, I found a $20 bill in the dryer!
It was like manna from heaven!
Finally, my backbreaking labor had paid off. I cannot tell you how much better it is to find money in a large appliance instead of the family pet. After recovering from the shock, I quickly realized there was no reason to let anyone else know about my good fortune. Of course, I’m talking about my spouse.
After all, I was the one doing the work. Therefore, it was only right that I should reap the benefits of the unexpected windfall.
Once I had hidden my lucky loot, I pondered long and hard about what I should do with the money. Momentarily riddled with pangs of guilt for hiding it from my better half, I briefly considered buying her a gift. It would be a pleasant surprise and temporarily get me on her good side – but that wouldn’t last long. Happily, as always, the guilt soon passed.
Having rejected the idea of being nice, I ran through several other, even less likely options when suddenly I was struck by an epiphany! Why, of course! The answer was so obvious. There was only one logical thing I could do with my sudden infusion of cash.
POWERBALL TICKETS!!!
My mind reeled to think of all the glorious benefits that would result from winning big bucks. For one thing, I could HIRE someone to do the laundry! I’d finally be free from detergents, softeners, and bleach. (And the cat would be safe for eight more lives.) In fact, anytime my wife wanted me to lift a finger, I could pay someone else to lift THEIR finger. The breathtaking possibilities for increased laziness were endless!
But, even though my imagination took flight and soared, it didn’t take long before I was brought back to reality. I had to admit the grim truth. There would be a definite downside to hitting the numbers.
Allow me to explain. I know, without a doubt, that my bride believes our marriage is a true partnership. (Even though she considers herself the boss, and I’m just the employee of the month.) Consequently, if by some miracle I am lucky enough to come into millions of dollars, she is going to want me to SHARE the payoff. (Personally, I find it unseemly when greediness rears its ugly head – but that’s just the way she is.)
While we are all familiar with upbeat sayings like “Share and share alike” and “What’s mine is yours”, I don’t think they should apply when life-changing money is at stake. I admit, it’s impossible to know whose $20 it was in the dryer, but I don’t think “Finders Keepers” will carry much weight with my spouse.
Fortunately for my sweetie, I happen to have a big heart. In fact, I’m generous to a fault. I suppose that makes me a soft touch because I like to give until it hurts. So, with that being said, I’m going to step up and do the right thing. If I win big, I will be more than willing to share half of the original investment. The love of my life can spend her $10 however she wants, with no questions asked.
Marital Madness 