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Their view: To get Trump, anything goes

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Luzerne County SHINE at Wilkes University receives books

<p>I realize I throw around the phrase &#8220;death wish&#8221; quite frequently (and mostly during golf season), but I can&#8217;t control my feelings. Well I can, but why bother?</p><p>It all began yesterday, as Nancy was moping because he wanted to partake in not one, but two golf tournaments this week. So hard to fit it all in! He does manage to squeeze in a weekly golf soiree and practice golf outings prior to the soiree. Also, easily scheduled: the ubiquitous &#8220;charity&#8221; tournaments. Or the &#8220;client&#8221; golf outings. So, forgive me for not feeling his pain. Equally not amusing: the fact that any day involving golf ends with the sun, quite literally, coming up the next morning. Not amused. And loudly not amused.</p><p>He always makes the laughable point that he should be able to play as often as the urge moves him. This would mean he would golf more than he goes to the bathroom.</p><p>He was irritably muttering in the next room and I heard these fighting words fly from his mouth:</p><p>&#8220;You&#8217;re so lucky. You, like, have <em>so</em> much free time. You can do whatever you want! I don&#8217;t have that kind of time &#8230;&#8221;</p><p>His point being, I suppose, in his truly clueless XY chromosomal brain, that I must have plenty of time to play hopscotch, drink bourbon and participate in all kinds of carefree activities, while he, the main bread-winner, can only golf in limited increments!</p><p>I became uber-agitated. I spun on the heel of my new, adorable Keds (they&#8217;re cool again, I promise you) and marched from the room, aggressively stomping upstairs where I drew a bath and plopped myself firmly within it. For two hours. If I didn&#8217;t leave his vicinity immediately, blood would have been drawn.</p><p>I would&#8217;ve been less infuriated if he informed me he had another family somewhere in Utah. In fact, I&#8217;d have been ecstatic. I&#8217;d think: &#8220;Awesome. Let the other wife do his laundry and recycle his beer bottles. Huge win-win!&#8221;</p><p>Men can mumble all they want under their breath, but years of being mothers have impeccably honed our keen sense of hearing, elevating it to process at the same frequency, as say, a giant golden-crowned flying fox bat when it comes to deciphering utterances from two rooms away. Men: Don&#8217;t be so stupid; it&#8217;s a phenomenon that goes back to a time when cavewomen were accused by their cave spouse of sitting on rocks all day and not taking the time to pound-out the dirty buckskins or cook the buffalo over the fire: <em>You can think it, but don&#8217;t say it</em>! Idiot.</p><p>So, let&#8217;s see what I don&#8217;t accomplish when I sit on my flat rear end and do nothing but pluck my mustache, play Trivia Crack and contemplate my newest cluster of spider veins each and every day.</p><p>This week, I haven&#8217;t done any of his laundry. I&#8217;ve not cooked a meal. No coffee nor bed made, no dishwasher emptied. True, I&#8217;m being a child. But monkey see, monkey do and nah nah nah nah nah.</p><p>He may eventually apologize, but It&#8217;s only because he&#8217;ll have no clean underwear left.</p><p>He&#8217;ll have to find me first. I&#8217;ll be trotting around town trying to find a pick-up game of Jacks, stopping by Legacy for awesome cannoli and skipping over to the playground to, you know, play, because I have hours, just <em>hours</em>, to fill during my vast, fruitless days. Hopefully, when I get home, the Potato Pixie will have started dinner and the Laundry Leprechaun will be sorting the piles of filthy, noxious garments stuck to the laundry room floor. But I&#8217;ve given her strict instructions not to touch the underwear pile.</p><p>Nothing brings a man to his knees faster than an empty underwear drawer.</p><style>
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<div class="metaInfo"><bylineMeta><p>Maria Jiunta Heck</p><p>Life Deconstructed</p></bylineMeta></div><div class="metaInfo"><shirttailMeta><p>Maria Jiunta Heck, of West Pittston, is a mother of three and a business owner who lives to dissect the minutiae of life. Send Maria an email at mariajh40@msn.com.</p></shirttailMeta></div>

Life Deconstructed: The free time argument is as old as mankind itself