It would seem God gave men and women
different eyes.
The mechanics are the same, with
retinas and all those other eyeball thingies, but they just don't see
the same things.
For example, there can be a few items
on the counter and, to a man's eyes, they are just fine where they
are, but to a woman they are clutterish (if that is even a real word)
and they must be put away — immediately.
A guy can look at the items many times
and not see a need to do something with them. That is not to say men
are slobs.
OK, some men are slobs, or neatness
challenged as the politically correct world calls them, but I am
talking about a couple of minor items here.
A woman, or more accurately my wife,
can look at a room and see a dozen things that need to be done,
changed, moved, cleaned, burned, have an exorcism performed on them
or simply left alone.
I can look at the same room and think,
Looks good to me.
So how come her eyes can see such a
different world than mine do?
Beats me.
However, I have noticed that once we
step outside, a role reversal takes place and I start to see things
she does not.
Our lawn can be three metres tall with
a family of rednecks living in it and she would not see a need to mow
the grass. There could be more weed per square foot than Woodstock
and she would simply walk by them every single day.
My man eyes, however, see the need to
get the motorized lawn chopper out and make the yard somewhat
presentable. The weeds, of course, must go, the hedge has to be
trimmed, the trees pruned and something must be done with that darned
spreading juniper that is attempting to take over the entire front
yard rock garden.
“We have a spreading juniper? What's
a spreading juniper?”was pretty much my wife's response when I told
of the cedar situation that is threatening to create havoc in the
entire western hemisphere.
I will show her the bush that is just
slightly smaller than an aircraft carrier and she will invariably
respond, “Oh, I never noticed it before.”
Funny how that excuse does not work
when it comes to a pile of laundry.
“What do you mean you did not notice
it? How could you not notice a pile of laundry next to the wash
machine behind a closed laundry room door? It's so obvious. Juniper?
What juniper?”
Let's just say the yard work has been
left mostly to yours truly. Fortunately, I have two big strong sons
who willingly jump in and help me with the back 40.
OK, willingly might be a bit of a
stretch. I think forcibly is a more accurate description of their
helping out with the greenery.
My wife's eyes do notice the gas guage
now, which is a good thing. For a while she had a blind spot for that
particular vehicular function and I would often jump in the car to go
somewhere to find it had less gas than a squirrel fart.
But that's OK, I never quite did get
the hang of noticing when we were out of conditioner (Hey, I'm a bald
man, conditioner is not a real big concern for me.)
But eyes can be trained. My eyes have
learned to notice when the floor needs to be vacuumed, but for some
reason I am still somewhat blind to a pile of dirty dishes.
My wife has figured out the gas thing,
but for some reason remains oblivious to the plight of the lawn.
Perhaps glasses might help us both.
Copyright 2017, Darren Handschuh
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