Why men are indispensable

I’ve always liked men, enjoyed having them around, and on the whole preferred life with them than without. But I’ve never really thought of them as indispensable until very recently … last night in fact.

My husband, you see, has taken a job which entails being away from home 4 days (and nights) out of every 8. I thought this would have its advantages, paramount amongst which would be 4-DAY BLOCKS WITH NO INTERRUPTIONS. My theory was that I would thus be free to immerse myself in my art work.

But it wasn’t quite so easy.

I discovered, didn’t I, just how many things Colin actually did around the place. So I had to allow in my schedule for putting out the rubbish, taking the vegie scraps out to the monstrosity we call a compost heap (a mound we bury the scraps under and which gives birth to countless vigorous pumpkin vines which never bear any pumpkins), wheedling his cat Paddingon into coming in at night (unlike ALL other cats we’ve owned, Paddington answers only to Colin), remembering which days we’re allowed to water the garden, and so on. None of these, however, makes men INDISPENSABLE, just useful. We’ll get onto that in a moment.

But first, a vaguely Mac-related commercial break ….

Soon-to-be-famous Australian artist launches her work on American website

One morning I realised that, without anyone to interrupt me, I hadn’t been outside the house or away from the computer during the daylight hours for two whole days. So I grabbed my camera and went for a stroll around the garden. It had been a more lush than usual spring and summer and our garden was lavish with flowers. I found things in the garden I didn’t know existed there before, and I noticed details in familiar plants that I hadn’t noticed before.

Refreshed and glowing (well I felt glowing, but there was nobody to confirm this), I downloaded the photos onto my Mac, then spent the next several hours playing with images of grevilleas. One thing led to another, and before I knew it, I found myself designing a series of brooches.

Uncharacteristically (and I’m sure this wouldn’t have happened if I’d been subjected to husband-distraction), I followed through with the project, and now have these brooches for sale in the Shoppes of Artella.

http://www.artellawordsandart.com/CarmelGlover.html

It would be perfectly in order for you to tell everyone you know about this. I need to be phenomenally successful so that I can continue buying Macintoshes.

End commercial break
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Back to the Men are Indispensable story …

I must confess that I was starting to get a bit smug about living solo in 4/8 time, and I daresay the universe thought it was time for a reality check. There I was, comfortably settled on the sofa watching the Winter Olympics when ‘my’ cat Kasha hurtled into the house bearing a largish RAT. I leapt up with a wild yell and tried to chase her out of the house, but she skilfully evaded me and streaked into Colin’s office with her prize. (Let it be known that this cat has hitherto contented herself with lizards and grasshoppers!)

Well, I did what any quick-thinking woman would do … I closed the office door. Then I sat and pondered about what to do next. I hoped that Kasha would just kill the rat, but I realised the more likely scenario was that the rat would hide in one of the many cat-proof hiding places in Colin’s office. One thing I knew – I was NOT going to let that rat out to wander at will around the rest of the house. I thought it only right to ring Colin, just in case he had some brilliant suggestion. He said I should have closed myself in, cornered Kasha-with-rat-in-mouth and taken it from her. Oh yeah! What was I supposed to do … remove it with my bare hands? Hit it with an axe? Really … MEN!!!

So I just let things be. I thought I could probably cope better with a dead rat than a live one and it was bound to die eventually, from starvation if nothing else (anyone know how long it takes for a rat to starve to death?). There might be a bit of carpet cleaning involved, but that comes within my skillset.

Over the next hour or so there were occasional scuffles and bumping noises and then silence. Having decided to do nothing, I found I was able to focus once again on the Winter Olympics.

Just before I went to bed, Kasha began asking to be let out of the room. She didn’t sound as if she had a rat in her mouth, so I tentatively opened the door, and she emerged, innocent as you please. No sign of the rat. I closed the door again.

It’s still there, so far as I know. I had a cursory look around this morning, but could see nothing. The door remains closed. Colin will be back tomorrow night, so he can deal with it in any way he thinks fit.

It’s all quite disturbing. What if I outlive Colin and have to live completely on my own? What if next time Kasha chooses MY office?

If anyone knows of any rat-handling courses for women please let me know.