So here’s the thing, if you are a guy you might want to stop reading now.  This is not going to put you in a good light.  I can’t help it.  I’m going to lightly male bash.  I am a woman, it is my right.  Furthermore, I am a married woman.  It is my domain.

As women we all know that men, all men but specifically our men, have faults.  Some faults are unforgivable, like  abuse either verbal or physical.  While other faults are just a pain, like leaving the toilet seat up.  The trick is to find a man whose faults you can live with.  Then you mess with him.  I swear!  It is your inalienable right as his wife.  They mess with us all the time.  They think they are right when you know they are wrong.  They refuse to do something they have promised to do since before you were engaged.  The list is a mile long and a half mile wide and you know that another man is just going to take at least as long to break in and do you really want to go to all the trouble so you do the next best thing…you mess with them.

My husband hates wire hangers.  He could be Joan Crawford on a bad day about wire hangers.  He just goes on and on.  When we first got married I brought a ton of wire hangers into the house.  I swear for six months every time we went to Wal-Mart we bought plastic hangers and threw out wire hangers in an attempt to banish wire hangers from our closet.  Here’s the thing…I never threw the wire hangers away.  I knew that you always need hangers.  So I just put them in the hall closet and then they weren’t visible to him and all was well.  That was year one.  We were newlyweds.  He wasn’t bugging me yet.  Yet.

Over time the constantly not being wrong (I can’t say he was always right…I can say he thinks he was), the locking me out of the bedroom, the talking to me while I was on the phone and so on got to me.  I am only human.  About this same time, I separated our closets.  We no longer had a joint closet with another closet for clothes that were out of season.  He had a closet and I had a closet.  Now I do all the laundry.  Not because I am a woman but because I prefer to not have my clothing ruined when it is washed.  I wash it, dry it, fold or hang it up and all he has to do is take his and put it away either in the dresser or in his closet.  It never happens.  His clothes inevitably are hanging in the laundry room or are in the floor of his closet where he has thrown them.  Do you have any idea how irritating it is to do laundry only to have it thrown in the closet floor?  So…I have begun rotating the wire hangers back into service.  This project has been ongoing for about two years now.

For the longest time I thought he hadn’t noticed.  Nothing had been said.  Then about two weeks ago I told him I was out of hangers in the laundry room would he pull the empty hangers out of his closet.  He started ripping through his closet pulling out wire hangers.  “Where in the hell did these come from?  I can’t stand wire hangers.  We’ve got plenty of hangers.  Why are my clothes hung on these?”  I looked up at him innocently and said “I guess from the store.”  “Well, there must be twenty in here.”  To which I replied, “Well, don’t throw them out.  It looks like you have at least thirty things in the floor that need to be hung up and you’ll need those hangers.”  Well, then it was on.  No he didn’t.  Yes, he did…and so on until finally in order to prove to me he was right he had to hang up the things in the floor of his closet.

Well, of course he didn’t need the wire hangers so I threw them out (sure I did), and all of the things that needed to be hung back up in the bottom of his closet are back in order.  I haven’t exactly figured out how to Brer Rabbit him into putting all of the crap in the bottom of his closet into the dresser yet, but I’m working on it.  He knows better than to leave his closet like that too.  He told my mother that if his mother could see his closet she would kick his butt.  I’m thinking of channeling her seance style.  Probably wouldn’t work though, he didn’t listen to her either.  I wouldn’t take such pride in tricking him into doing things if he wasn’t such a smarty pants about avoiding such things.  He knows that I have obsessive compulsive disorder and can’t really relax unless things are in their place and leaving crap in the closet floor is his way of messing with me. 

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