I hasten to point out that's not to say I'm a stuck-in the-past chauvinist. Or at least I don't think I am. But there is a sort of demilitarised zone in the middle where it is unclear who holds responsibility so we will share inside and outside duties and enjoy a bit of time together.
But obviously there are times when, for instance, my vacuuming efforts in the lounge are a bit too rapid for Mrs P. And while I bang on about setting a new speed record and having it done in the three minutes before the news starts she is most likely to roll her eyes and smile.
It's a bit the same when she decides that pile of wood I keep at the back of the garage needs sorting. The only difference is she can't see me rolling my eyes as I usher her away with a firm palm in the small of her back.
Anyway, there I am the other day thinking we've done everything there is to do and we can relax and watch a bit of telly during lockdown, when She Who Must Be Obeyed decides we need to wash the curtains.
It's possible it's just me who has never actually thought of this before – ever - but before I can say 'Let's Have Cuddles Instead To Fill In Time During Lockdown' I'm taking down what feels like 478 pairs of curtains in our humble abode.
And wouldn't you know it, before I'm halfway through the first pair there's a problem. The little plastic curtain hooks keep snapping in my hands.
It is possible they are breaking because they are old and/or because I am sulking and perhaps being a little over vigorous. But to be fair it's monotonous and holding my arms up like this for this long really aches ... honest.
Luckily Mrs P has the bit between her teeth and is unperturbed.
It turns out she has a secret stash somewhere within the house which includes several packets of curtain hooks, odd shaped light bulbs and all the warranty documents for every appliance she has ever bought – the ones that you are supposed to fill in and return to the manufacturer but never do.
While she goes off to look for the hooks I set about getting all the curtains down before my arms cramp up completely.
I'm feeling the burn as I near the finish - and the hooks are still snapping frequently to the point I've probably broken half of them – but I finish just as she returns.
And she's empty handed. It seems the prized hooks are nowhere to be found. And, because we are sensible people, I'm not about to brave the dreaded virus on a hunt for a $1.50 packet of plastic hooks at the supermarket.
Oh well, I'm thinking, no big drama. We'll just wash them and then put them back with a bit more spacing. I mentioned as much to Mrs P.
Big mistake.
Many years ago we bought a house and ended up with a little bit of cash left over. Not much you understand but certainly four figures.
Feeling magnanimous, and secretly hoping I could secure a bit of the dough to buy new golf clubs, I suggested we should get some new curtains for the dining room. To this day I'm thinking they were made out of solid gold. They cost a fortune. I didn't even have enough left to buy a golf ball, let alone a full set of clubs.
Fast forward to that Christmas and Mrs P trips and send a full glass of red wine over the fabric.
And why am departing from our current tale and I telling you this? Because basically the look and scream that followed her discovery of a large pile of broken curtain hooks and my spacing out suggestion were the same as that which came out that fateful Yuletide season when her precious solid gold curtains got ruined.
These days the kids shiver when they recall the memory. In our house it is referred to simply as The Incident.
So anyway. Back to the future.
The newly washed curtains are up again. They look very clean (he says trying to sound cheerful) but in all honesty they are hanging pitifully all over the place like a scruffy kid with his shirt out. That probably has something to do with the fact I broke a few more curtain hooks when I tried to put them back in the eye things on the rails. Geez, I thought plastic was supposed to last forever?
Naturally I've told Mrs P I'll find some curtain hooks when I do get to the supermarket later this week and no expense will be spared. I figure it's only $1.50 or so. Maybe I'll even splurge and get four packets so she can keep some in her private stash too. Never let it be said I'm not generous.
Unfortunately, I've a feeling I may be too late.
She's already started talking about getting some new curtains made and getting someone in to hang them properly.
I've a feeling that might cost a bit more than $1.50.
