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"What do you mean, it takes two to tango? I thought we were arguing about housework, not prancing around on a dance
floor!"
"It's just a saying. Look, forget I mentioned it. I still don't see why you can't help clean up your own mess and
wash your smelly socks. Why do you expect me to come home from work and run around waiting on you hand and foot?"
"It's the woman's place to do the housework, that's why! I bring home the biggest wage packet and I work a damn
sight harder than you do too."
"Working all day at the Tax Office is just as much hard work as selling newspaper advertising space. And don't forget,
it's been proved that I'm in the most stressful job in Australia. But why is it the woman's place to do all the housework?
Why do you not even rinse out your teacup after I've made you a cup of tea? Why don't you make me a cup of tea for once?"
"Nag, nag, bloody nag! Real men don't do that kind of stuff. My mother never went on to my Dad about doing the
washing and ironing."
"Yes, and I remember she put her back out making the big bed, while he sat on his principles and refused to lend
a hand. She was never the same after that. But of course it wasn't his fault. She should have straightened her back, he
said. Well, I'm not your mother. You were like that even when we were first married. I remember you agreed to make dinner
one night. What did I get? Bloody greasy KFC, that's what!"
"You were lucky to get it. Most blokes wouldn't do that. Anyway, discussion over. I'm not doing women's work,
and that's final."
"Yes, dear. It is final. I'm tired of being your slave, so I'm packing my suitcase, and I'm waltzing out of here.
I'll stay with my Mother until I can find a place of my own.
"You've never let me show you how to do anything around here, so you're in for a merry dance, learning how to iron
a shirt, operate the microwave, shop in a supermarket. Hah! I bet you don't even know where we keep the tea bags. By the
way, that big square box in the laundry is the washing machine. As far as I'm concerned buster, this marriage is over, finished,
kaput, dead. And I'm feeling better already."
I watched as she marched up the stairs, wondering what had hit me. Come on, women didn't really believe all that equality
nonsense, did they? I'll just eat KFC for a few days until she comes to her senses. Before she goes out the door, I'd better
ask her how many spoons of sugar I take in my tea. Anyway, she'll come running back inside a week.
Won't she???
© Sandy Parkinson February 2008. Word count: 484
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