The Rural Voice, 1999-08, Page 8r
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4 THE RURAL VOICE
Gisele Ireland
Going our separate ways together
Super Wrench magnanimously
allows me to be "boss" in some areas
of decision making because he knows
there are times I like to be "in
charge". In our relationship, this
coveted title always seems to have a
hidden agenda.
Super
Wrench was on
the phone
recently and I
caught the tail
end of the
conversation
where he
regretfully told
the caller he
couldn't do
whatever they
requested
because the
"boss" wouldn't
let him. This
happens when
he's asked to do something he
dislikes such as going to see The
Nutcracker Suite, but the "boss" is
never consulted when it concerns
going golfing with his buddies.
I'm the "boss" when it comes to
the domestics. Super Wrench grouses
about my boardroom decisions. Small
things like why did I buy cheap toilet
paper with slivers in it? Why does all
our shampoo smell like an herb
garden and the toothpaste I bought
last week tastes funny? He stops just
short of being aggravated as he
knows I'd give him the title in a flash.
Super Wrench's interest in home
decorating is about as avid as my
interest in valve -grinding. I'm the
boss, but constantly have to justify
the expense to the CEO. Yes the
carpet costs a little more than you'd
pay for a used tractor, but the tractor
doesn't do a thing for the colour
scheme. Yes I know all you need
windows for is to see who is driving
in the lane but I like swaths and
swags of fabric around them.
Super Wrench is head of the
vehicle department. He decides what
we drive. He's boringly predictable.
It's always the same make and model,
at least 10 years old and a nightmare
for me to squeeze into parking spots.
Admittedly he allowed me to select
the paint colour of our most recent set
of wheels and was told I botched
even that small part of upper
management. A neighbour told him
he'd never need to worry about
meeting the ugliest car on the road.
He just blithely informed them the
"boss" did it.
My most recent executive decision
almost resulted in serious marriage
counselling. After several broad hints
Super Wrench allowed me to plan a
day away from home just for
pleasure. Just the open'ng I'd been
waiting for. First would be an early
morning trip to Kitchener Sale, a
quick trip to get a few paper supplies,
a leisurely lunch followed by a tour of
a fantastic botanical garden near
Stratford. I was euphoric.
The hidden agenda part was
obvious before we even left home. He
pulled the truck to the house and
motioned for me to get in. I hate the
truck because it bounces all over the
road. When I expressed this objection
to Super Wrench he told me it
wouldn't bounce for long. He was
right. We dropped off several parts of
rusted junk and picked up a hefty
round object of chains and plates. It
was supposed to be on the dock in
Elmira just waiting. It wasn't. I
waited, and waited and waited in the
truck for the transaction to conclude. I
blistered Super Wrench's ears with a
few choice phrases and decided to
enjoy the rest of the day. I didn't. We
picked up enough oil products to
cause a major slick in a lake, had to
drive forever to get a machine for the
shop and squeezed lunch in
somewhere in between.
Super Wrench was appalled at my
adamant refusal to tour the botanical
gardens when we finally. got there. By
that time I had passed fuming and
was doing a good imitation of Ilsa the
Iceberg. We drove home, the
wronged, bewildered husband at the
wheel and the fulminating spouse
beside him planning diabolical
revenge. He was right, the truck
didn't bounce.
I'm back to "boss" where I belong.
contemplating the grocery list. I'm
looking for a truckload of cheap toilet
paper, with something larger than
slivers. Branches perhaps?0
Gisele Ireland, from Bruce County, is
an author of several humorous books
on farm life.