Hey! That’s My Job

 I recently saw a man giving a manicure to a woman. Then as I was driving down a street I saw a woman mowing a lawn in front of a business. What was wrong with these two things?

 
                I know what you are thinking, but you wouldn’t be right. I found that, well first of all the man giving the manicure should not have been putting red stripes over a yellow base color. Not a good combination of vibrant colors. Then, the woman should have not been wearing a dress on a riding lawn mower. Not that there is anything wrong with a dress wearing lawn mower driver, but it was a bit too much of a mini dress.
 
                Okay so all of that aside, you were probably right. In my world the woman should have been doing the nails and the man should have been mowing the lawn—but please, not in a dress!
 
                It’s not that I don’t think a woman shouldn’t mow a lawn. I mow our lawn. I enjoy mowing the lawn. It smells wonderful, you get instant gratification by seeing that you have accomplished something with each pass and the birds are a blast to watch when the gobble up the worms that come up after the mower scrambles over their little hidey-hole homes in the grass.
 
                It’s also not that I don’t think a man couldn’t do nails. Some men have more patience with a woman who has trouble making up her mind concerning fingernail stuff. You know, length, color, design, sparkles or not…
 
                All in all it is just my old fashioned up bringing that says the man brings home the bacon and the woman fries it up in the pan. I am leaning towards the new ways though. I now think that it doesn’t make a difference who brings home the bacon aka cash, just as long as someone does. Along those lines it doesn’t matter who fries up the bacon, just as long as it gets fried and put into a big ole pile of nice crisp strips. All warm and bacon-y.  Okay get your nose back from the bacon smell.
 
                But, yes, yes another but. But for the life of me I just can’t get past seeing a man doing what I deem as girly things. Like picking out just the right mascara. Not a man in drag, which is such another road taken. But just a man, in the makeup isle picking out mascara. It just seemed out of kilter. Or a woman up a tree running a chain saw. Cusssin’ and spittin’ and carrying on like Paul Bunyan. Again, just a little off what is so often called the “normal” bubble. So why am I even talking about this? Well…
 
                Things change as we all get more comfortable in our lives. When I first got married I would have never agreed to let my other half help with house cleaning. As a new wife I had something to prove, I could clean and wash and cook and do all the wifely things. But now, I appreciate when I am asked if there is anything he can do to help around the house. So yesterday I said yes and then I watched the show.
 
                I asked if he could grab one of those Swiffer duster things and zip around and dust. He grabbed the little plastic handled thing and away he went. Did a good job but he had a little trouble reaching a few places and he knew it. But instead of just poo pooing those places, like I do, he disappeared for a few minutes and when he came back this is what I saw. He had gone to the spare room and duct taped the duster to a yard stick to reach a little further. Actually what he said was, “I can reach about three feet farther now, want to know how I know?” as he held up his stick.
 
                The moral here is that even though dusting isn’t normally a man’s job, a man will somehow make it about being a man by redesigning the duster. And a woman will make a normally man’s job of mowing a lawn about being a woman by wearing a dress, and a little mascara.
 
                Trina lives in Eureka, Nevada. Share with her at itybytrina@yahoo.com

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