The WHY Chromosome

For the last 20 years, I have lived with 1-3 men, and a male dog, at different times.  The pros to that arrangement are: There is always someone to call to kill enormous bugs and spiders, open a jar or reach something above my vertical range.  Consequently, there are a vast amount of negatives that have led me to develop the theory that the Y chromosome should be renamed the WHY chromosome.

Why am I the only person to see an empty toilet paper roll and replace it?  And further more, why is there a shoe box full of empty toilet paper rolls in your closet?  And more under the bathroom cabinet?  Are you saving them to make British cracker toys?  Did you want to know how much toilet paper you used in a given month?  Did you even know the box was in the closet?

Why do you not see a ring in the tub, toilet or sink or the dotty path of toothpaste film on the mirror and take the 30-60 seconds to eradicate it with a paper towel, the special tools of bathroom cleaning magic, a Magic Eraser, or your wet bath towel that will predictably end up on the floor?

Why do you feel it is necessary to create a Leaning Tower of Plates in both sinks in our kitchen?  If anyone turns on the water, a cascade will roll back to the window ledge I cannot reach without Cirque du Soleil-esque contortions, and the assistance of a chiropractor to restore me to vertical.

Why, when I actually have cash in my wallet, do you suddenly remember that an event requiring exact change is happening at school that day, thereby reducing my currency to receipts, used gum wrappers and lint.

Why, when you have a perfectly good dresser set and closet full of hangers, are all of your clothes to be found on the floor in various stages of clean, dirty and “ok to wear one more day with a shot of Fabreze”?

Why can there be piles of recycling, the trash overflowing, mail to be sorted, grocery bags to be put away and when I call you to the kitchen, the first word I get is “What?” or “What’s for dinner?”

Why when I ask you to wear something nice for dinner with the grandparents, do you insist on a favorite politically incorrect or obscure t-shirt that will require explanation.  That shirt would look perfect layered under a button-down dress shirt, don’t you think?

Why do your dress shoes, suits, dress slacks and shirts always shrink between holiday wearings?  And why are you always a size that is most difficult to impossible to locate at local department stores?

Why is it that I keep finding my laundry in your clean clothing piles that are never put away?  Because my laundry basket is empty and open for storage… duh!  I have been looking for that shirt for at least two months!

Why is it that I’m feeding, watering and cleaning up after YOUR pets?  Did I clamor and beg for said pets and vow repeatedly to be fully responsible for their welfare?  I think not...

Why is it that you think I have auto-radar for anything you can’t find in 10 seconds or less that is usually right under your nose?   And devising a logical place for it to be returned to after use, only works if that logical place is utilized...

Why is it that God thought it would be riotously funny to bless my life with two sons within 28 months and then sat back to watch the chaos unfold?  There are many times in the last 20 years that I have been convinced that my life was God’s favorite sit-com.   But you know what IS fair?  My sister is now waiting to see what flavor the bun in her oven will be and if it’s another boy, I’m going to laugh and laugh and laugh until the tears run down my leg.  Because that’s what happens when you’ve raised boys as many of us are keenly aware.  But that's a whole 'nother story.