What it means to be a husband

Exhausted, head as heavy a 50 lb dumbbell. Back and shoulders aching, tied up like a pretzel. You hit the mattress.

From down the hall, a noise: "Someone needs to take the recycling down!" "Well, Mr. Back-tied-up-like a pretzel, I know, I know. But you can't say that pretzelie-poo. You see, I/we/you... we got married, and if you reference page 738, you'll see that this is what it means to be a husband.

So up you get... nothing could look more piteous than you do right now. You look one more time pleadingly - to see that the woman of your life is having none of it. "Here: Take this. And this. And this... Oh! And this and this and this". Pretty soon you are carrying more than an human being has the capacity to carry. Cans and empty containers that have fallen out of the over-stuffed bags, litter the way behind you, like a slug leaving its trail of mucus. This is what it means to be a husband.

So off you go, you and your detritus are one. Nothing to do but get it done now, and that's what you do. Almost back home now, almost through the door, almost back on the mattress, the sweet allure of your pillow wide in your eye. "Honey, there's one more I found. Could you take this out too? It doesn't need to be done now [yes, yes it does]". This is what it means to be a husband