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In the Eyes of the
Beholder
I got the overwhelming urge to do some
cleaning the other day. Heavy-duty, no holds barred,
dust-bunny-be-warned cleaning. Under the bed and in the
corners cleaning. And I didn't start because I'm "nesting"
or any of the other oh-so-cute euphemisms that other
non-pregnant people assign to very pregnant, hormonally
insane, due-any-day-now women. It just seemed like as good
a time as any to do it.
I started with my husband's closet. Why?
Probably because it's easier to throw away his stuff than
it is to throw away my own.
The first thing I ran across were two
pairs of old tennis shoes. As I recall, he insisted that
they weren't comfortable enough to wear anymore, but once
we replaced them with new ones he couldn't seem to part
with the old ones.
Why is it that men save old shoes?
Especially tennis shoes. By the time they have been worn
enough to qualify as the "old" shoes, they are generally
past any earthly usefulness - and they stink besides.
I asked my husband this. I know for a
fact he has two new pairs to replace these because not
only was I present when he purchased them, but they, too,
are sitting in the closet. But I really want to hear what
his reason is. I could really use a laugh.
He defends the old shoes, saying that
he'll use them for painting.
Painting. Painting what? I ask. I know
he's not going to paint a house.
We don't own a house. He says he's going
to paint walls.
When?
One day, he hedges.
Nope. Not good enough. I point out to
him that it will be quite a while before such a day comes.
By then he'll no doubt have accumulated another pair of
old shoes suitable for the job. I threaten these two pairs
with the garbage bag.
He's starting to sweat. I can almost see
his mind spinning and then click when he comes up with
another answer. He says he needs them for doing yard work.
I hesitate.
This is at least a logical and relevant
answer. We have a yard. He does work in it.
I'm reasonable. I point out that he has
two pairs. He doesn't need them both.
I can see him thinking. He's searching
for a logical reason, a way to save them both.
I'm not trying to torture him. Really. I
just have a thing about throwing away unneeded junk. I
guess I'm not as sentimental as he is. I don't have a
lucky sweatshirt. I won't have my currently trendy clothes
twenty years from now when they come back into style. I'm
practical. And I really, really like to throw things away.
It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
And besides, men's shoes are so large.
They take up so much space in a closet. Men may complain
about the number of shoes that women have, but at least
they're small. I can keep twenty-five pairs in the space
my husband has five.
The last time we moved I threw away two
pairs of his old shoes - without asking him. I don't think
he even noticed. I'm beginning to think that I shouldn't
have asked this time either.
Time's up. He has to choose. We
compromise and one pair goes.
We both feel like winners. But judging
from the slightly pained expression on his face as he
hears the garbage bag rustle with the addition of his
beloved shoes, I probably feel better than he does.
I'm done with his shoes and he breathes
a sigh of relief. Too soon however.
I move on to his clothes. Why is he
keeping this shirt? There's a hole in the arm and it's so
thin I can see through it.
He says he's going to paint in it.
I give up. I don't have the strength to
argue anymore. I think I'll tackle the dust bunnies. At
least they can't talk back.

Jennifer Ismail is a stay at home
mom to her daughter Sarah and infant son Benjamin. She
enjoys writing lighthearted essays from her personal
experiences. Her work has appeared in the newspaper as
well as on
20ishparents.com and
babyuniversity.com.
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