The Rural Voice, 1997-10, Page 6•
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CHRYSLER DODGE
HOME OF QUALITY
USED VEHICLES
"We only sell the best
for less and
wholesale the rest"
CHRYSLER
DODGE
JEEP
DODGE TRUCKS
Sales • Leasing
Parts • Service
IMIM
If you don't
see what you
want, ask us,
we'll find it
for you.
Sunset Strip,
Owen Sound
Ontario, N4K 5W9
(519) 371 -JEEP (5337)
1-800-263-9579
Fax: (519) 371-5559
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2 THE RURAL VOICE
Gisele Ireland
Just trying
Enough is enough! There were
three separate occasions during the
past week when people, (heavy on
testosterone) made very pointed
comments on my treatment of Super
Wrench. In
their
estimation, my
lack of awe and
respect for the
Wrench forced
them to voice
their concerns
regarding my
not being
"nice" enough
to him. All of
them, by the
way, are avid
readers of this
column, and
hold their
breath from one month to the next to
see what trials and tribulations the
Wrench experiences at my hands.
My "nice" campaign began at
breakfast. For once, it was ready
when Super Wrench stumbled
downstairs. The hardest job he has all
day is regaining consciousness after a
night's rest. In full view beside his
steaming cup of coffee were several
phone messages, with extra care
taken so that none of the numbers
were transposed as is my usual habit.
Before, I always helped awaken him
by using my special Louisiana Hog
Caller's voice and letting him know
he was wanted on the blower. Often
this nerve -jarring summons reached
him in the shower or while on the
flusher. It always speeded up the
awakening process. No more. This
was the new me being "nice". By the
way, before he reached the shop he
lost the slip of paper and none of the
callers heard from him.
By the time the first day was over
the list of "nice" things I had done
was nauseous. After the third call for
lunch I did not threaten to feed it to
the dog over the paging system.
When he ate his oft -reheated mush, I
let him read the paper uninterrupted
and filled his coffee cup the second
time without him repeatedly having
to bang his cup on the table. I also
refrained from mentioning the broken
to be nice
lawn mower sitting in his shop,
surrounded by three mechanics. No
siree, I made mention that I would
gladly attack the half acre with the
push mower and would he please
have me cremated and spread the
ashes on my flower beds. He never
looked up from the paper.
The next day, the same "nice"
routine prevailed. This time I had his
work pants and shirt on the dresser,
not hanging in the rain out on the
clothesline or in the dryer, all
wrinkled and baked. He put them on
and came downstairs with a puzzled
look on his face. He was even more
mystified when I informed him a golf
buddy had called and what time they
teed off that evening. Did I mention
to the Wrench that he had promised
to run the tiller through the garden
and help dig potatoes? No way, that
wouldn't have been "nice". I sweetly
told him to enjoy himself as I knew
how hard he worked and how much
he needed a little relaxation from all
that stress.
He seemed somewhat flummoxed
as he stood around uncertainly
waiting for the detonation he was
sure would follow. He looked down
at his feet and realized his mud
encrusted boots had left great clods
all over the kitchen floor and I was
calmly wielding the broom around
him. If he only knew how strong the
temptation was to whack his manly
parts with the broom handle he'd
have been shocked. But, that
wouldn't have been "nice", would it?
The "nice" was a bit strained when
he asked me to plod through the
underbrush with him to pick
elderberries for a batch of homebrew,
and almost, and I stress almost, non-
existent when he came home from a
sale later that day, three hours late,
with a decrepit boat behind the truck.
What I've always wanted, a do-it-
yourself sea -sickness machine.
Instead of doing what comes
naturally, I quietly went to the house
and beat a feather pillow to death.
The vacuuming afterwards restored
my equilibrium and the "nice" in me.
Did Super Wrench skip across the
yard in joyous relief at the changes
my "niceness" had wrought? You
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