Tuesday, March 03, 2009

Where are the Scissors ?

I am refinancing our house. I say “ I” and not “we” because I told my wife that I would do the whole thing. This is what is known as a self preservation technique. My wife loves me, I am pretty sure, but certain things drive her over the edge. Refinancing promised to be one of them. I got a whiff of that this morning.


Against my better judgment, I had sent an e-mail home to myself listing some things the bank needs. Then I got home and realized that I do not know where any of them are kept . I was going to snoop around for them, but Rayda saw the list this morning before I could snoop  and demanded to know why I had not pulled the material last night. “I don’t know where it is ” I admitted. “Why don’t you know where it is ?” she rejoined. That is a question she only asks when she is particularly ticked off. Usually when I ask her where the scissors are she just says “You have lived in this house for twelve years and the scissors have always been in the same place..” Then she shows them to me. I feel a little guilty, but at least I get the scissors. The question “why don’t you know where they are ?” is a question for the ages. The question, “ Why does an all loving God allow evil in the world ?” pales in complexity compared to it. You notice that in the Book of Job, no one ever dared ask the question, “Why don’t you know where the scissors are ?” Not even God ,when he was pushing Job around asking him things like ‘Where were you when I divided the seas ? “ ever dared ask him “Why don’t you know where the scissors are ?” There’s a reason for that. It is because God did not know where the scissors were either.. To be fair, Mrs. Job was dead by the time the questions started getting asked in that book, so the question (and any search for the scissors) would have been futile.


Why don’t I know where the scissors are ? or the large plastic bags ? or where I am supposed to store the plastic measuring spoons when I unload the dishwasher ? Why is it that only males, usually husbands, have this problem ?

Whatever cause it is probably connected to the part of the brain which makes it impossible for us  to remember to pick our shoes up off the living room floor before we go to bed. We just seem to lack an aptitude for certain things that, prior to the advent of feminism, went unnoticed. Prior to about 1972, men still did not know where the scissors were, but women had not had their consciousness raised to the point where the realized that this was an insult to their sex. Some women even liked it, on T.V. the housewives were always saying “Heavens, what would you do without me ?” Well, I wouldn’t be cutting any paper, that’s for sure.


We have to face it. Not knowing where the scissors are is the last vestige of sexism in American society (that and paying women only 60% of what a man gets paid for the same job in the work place, but de minimis non curat lex).Men don’t know where the scissors are because they don’t want to know where they are. Because for thousands of years they have not had to know where the scissors are, and they resent this extra burden being added to their already burdened lives. Their fathers did not have to know where the scissors were, their grandfathers did not have to know, what in the world did this generation of men  do to have this problem dumped on them ?


So that is your answer, pure and simple. It is a resentment issue. As the species evolves and children are raised in a more egalitarian family hierarchy, those boy  children will learn where the scissors are. The problem is on its way to resolution now. It will be solved in less than a century (assuming that scissors as a product last that long, which is doubtful). So my view is that everyone should just relax. Think of the husband who asks where the scissors are as a charming anachronism of the past. Like a quaint horse and buggy clip clopping down your street. Sure, the buggy slows down traffic, and the horse’s defecation next to your driveway is unpleasant, but it is a quaint reminder of a simpler day, soon to be forgotten. Let’s all just enjoy it.


Blogger Paul D. Frazier said...

This is one of your most profound writings. Not only am I impressed with your theological depth, but I am astounded at your understanding of family dynamics.

I worship my wife as The Goddess of Lost Things, this but one of her many titles, such as Woman of Beauty and Mystery.

This homage seems to assuage her inate need to make me grovel, but one day even this adoration will not be enough, and my suffering will be great.

None of these important topics is included in a decent premarital counseling course, and even if this wisdom was shared, we men being what we are, we would have ignored these truths.

Let's face it: we are fools, lesser beings, and women merely tolerate us for their own mysterious reasons.

2:16 PM  
Blogger Stacey said...

You forgot to mention the fact that you don't know how to record things on the DVR...

7:44 PM  
Blogger Jannie Funster said...

That horse poop would be good for the roses tho.

And what's up with calling actresses "actors?" I don't get it. Soon all those "female actors" won't know where the hell or how to find their own scissors.

9:52 PM  

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