Flashback 2007: "Wives think their husbands are stupid"

     

     I'm taking some time off. I would hesitate to say whether I'm considered more or less stupid now than in 2007. Let's just say, I'm smart enough not to ask.

     Wives think their husbands are stupid. They have to. It's the modern way. If you're a married woman, just try saying to a female friend: "You know my husband, he's so smart. I think he's a genius."Just try. You can't, can you? Not with a straight face. Probably not at all. Your mouth won't form the words — it's as if I asked you to fire off some twisting bit of Gaelic: Is e do bhaile do chaislean.*
     My wife certainly thinks I'm an idiot. Of course, she'll deny it — I can hear her, reading the newspaper at the kitchen table, denying it to the cats, "I do not!" But you do, honey. Remember the light fixtures?
     The light fixtures in our boys' bedrooms? They were plastic — milky white inverted ziggurats from Menard's. Not elegant, but they withstood years of onslaught by flung balls and hacked light sabers and thrown stuffed animals.
     Until they didn't, until they cracked, eventually, then broke apart, beyond repair, in both rooms. I'd like to say that the boys endured the uncovered light bulbs for a year, a not-at-all-pleasant bus-station-at-3-a.m. effect. But it might have been two years. Tempus fugit.
     Eventually we bought new light fixtures — glass, vaguely breastlike affairs with an air of the 1890s — something that fits in with our ancient house. The boxes sat in the guest room for — I don't know — three months. Maybe six. Nine, tops. Waiting for my wife to call an electrician to put them up. I can do things around the house, but draw the line at electricity because Electricity Can Kill You.
     Eventually the sight of the boys in their rooms, squinting at their books under the harsh interrogation blaze of unshielded lights, overwhelmed my caution. I waited until my wife was out, then went about my task.
     Installing a light fixture is not as difficult as I imagined — you unscrew the old one, disconnect the wires, hook up the new one, then screw it in. They looked quite nice, blazing away.
     I could barely wait to show off my handiwork. My wife returned, and I ushered her upstairs. She regarded the new lights.
     "WELL, I HOPE YOU TURNED OFF THE ELECTRICITY!!!!" she cried, with alarm and a hint of rebuke. I was taken aback.
     "If I didn't turn off the electricity," I answered, through gritted teeth, "I'd already be dead."
     Yes, I suppose there are people each year who buy the ranch by working on wiring without first cutting the power. And no, I am not mocking the loss of your uncle, or father, or husband, nor suggesting he is a moron. Tragedies happen.
     But I am right now looking at the instruction sheet for the fixtures. The very first words are: "WARNING: BE SURE THE ELECTRICITY TO THE WIRES YOU ARE WORKING ON ARE SHUT OFF. . . ."
     So not shutting the power off must be an issue . . . there must be people, men, supposedly, husbands, one assumes, who go at copper wires with metal implements while the wires are still hot.
     Maybe the low opinion that wives have of their husbands is not without justification. But jeez, honey. I went to college. I know to cut the power. Give me just a little credit.
     — Originally published in the Sun-Times, Nov. 18, 2007

* "Your home is your castle." I can't believe I printed that, untranslated. Maybe I AM stupid.