Musings on menfolk, missing socks and nefarious blond fluffy floozies

Could he really live without me?

Do you ever wonder if your family could live without you? I mean function as a unit through the mundane tasks of the daily grind? Do they know how to switch on the washing machine, work the dishwasher and more importantly know where to put the crockery afterwards?

I don’t think mine can, but it’s not as if I am one for doing everything for them.

Quite the reverse. Get ‘em cooking, cleaning and doing the housework as soon as possible is my motto. Every opportunity I have them hoovering and dusting and helping me out but it obviously fails to sink in.

And as for my other half – don’t make me laugh.

He’s just come in complaining he can’t find any socks. What DOES he do to them? He is always losing them.

I thought I had a fail safe system. I launder everything from Sunday to Tuesday and dry it all ready for ironing on Wednesday. On Thursday everything that isn’t being ironed is brought upstairs to be sorted. All odd socks go to an odd-sock drawer which EVERYONE knows about. This means that perfectly good socks are not thrown out when their pair goes missing for a couple of months weeks. Once sorted all clothing is put on the beds of each individual for them to put away in their chest of drawers and cupboards. So if socks or indeed any other undergarment goes missing it has to be the individual’s fault, for once it is in their room I take no responsibility for it at all.

Still doesn’t seem to stop them all from yelling at me to find everything for them. I wonder if they need their eyesight checked? Invariably the thing that they are searching for so assiduously I find immediately.

Are males hardwired to be helpless? I always thought that was what females were meant to be, or certainly that is the way it seemed in the all the fairy tales that I read as a child, where princesses had to be rescued from fire breathing dragons by knights in shining armour.

Or is it that males see the ‘whole picture, as my other half so predictably says, that it is difficult for them to concentrate on the details? Personally I’d have thought being able to feed oneself is a little bit more than just a detail in one’s life.

I do know of females who make their menfolk totally dependent. I find them weird and slightly creepy in a 'Stepford Wives' way.

It’s done so subtlety that the menfolk have no idea it is happening at all. They don’t understand that their independence and free will is quietly being sapped from them as they are offered slippers and ironed newspapers, along with an evening whisky on their return from a hard day at the office before a three course cordon bleu dinner by candlelight after which she asks for NOTHING at all but to sit at his feet and listen in rapt wonder to his pronouncements about the ‘State Of The World Today’.

Sort of Night of the Vampire Mummys…with Cath Kidson.

Scary.

No, I won’t let that happen to my boys, I’ll get them to see that that sort of thing is just a honey trap to make their brains turn to mush so that they can be manipulated by alien blond fluffy floozies whose sole purpose is to take over the world for their own nefarious purposes – such as making every girl in the world wear pink…

Not sure that any of that is clear but it makes up for the fact that I was the ditzy brunette that drove the car into a puddle and wrote it off….