OFF THE CUFF

What do you do when an Act of Congress destroys marital bliss?

There’s a battle brewing in a home in the neighborhood. For sanitary reasons, I won’t mention names. There could be bloodshed. I think you understand.

It seems the lady of the house has set her foot down. Not softly. Not hesitantly. Not with any other word that describes uncertainty. No. The foot is down. With determination. With finality.

Her husband, bless his heart, I understand, is on the other side of thefence. Or kitchen. Or any of those other places that has its side. No. He’s even given up the TV remote as a gesture of compromise.

Did it work? Of course not. Finality is the final answer. Such are the foibles of marital disagreements.

What in the name of common sense has brought this happily married couple to this position, you ask.

Does it involve money? No. Religion? No. Sharing a steak (rare or welldone)? Nope. Politics? No. Well, maybe. Politics has been the root cause of the subject.

The matter of disagreement is deep. It involves the entire future of an important consideration for the family household: how to light the house.

If you haven’t guessed by now, let me explain. It involves those daggum curly-que, energy-saving, slow-to-glow, yet expensive light bulbs that our enlightened congress has mandated we all must start using.

The lady of the house has issued her noncompliant ultimatum to this ridiculous law that congress had better reconsider since she is on a warpath.

There will be none of those lord-awful bulbs inmy house, she explains. It’s none of those knuckleheads in Washington’s business what kind of light bulb I use, she declares.

They don’t give enough light. They’ve got mercury in them. There are fixtures you can’t use ‘em in. You’re not to dispose of them except in a certain way. And heaven forbid, if you break one, you’ve gotta open up the house and practically call HAZMAT to clean up the mess.

And besides, they are too darn expensive!

Now the husband has no answer to all those explainable reasons. He’d never admit it, of course, but he’s basically on the same page. But since he opened his mouth that the long-term result would save money and he’dhave to spend less time on a step-stool changing hard-to-reach bulbs in the back of the closet, he’s not about to back down.

So the battle rages. Stockpiling those goodold-incandescent bulbs continues. By the time it becomes impossible to buy any of them, all shelves in the workshop, and cabinets and closets, will be stockpiled with the old stand-bys.

Where will he put that 10-year supply of crappie jigs? Those extra tubes of golf balls that were on sale? Where can he hide that old pair of work shoes he rescued from the trash several weeks ago? You understand.

Makes you wonder what the world is coming to. When a light bulb can create such havoc, dampenmarital bliss and upset the balance of family power ... sure makes you wonder. Especially when there are so many critical issues facing America and its families.

The only quick solutions I could suggest are: Write your congressman. Call the President. Collect. Threaten to secede. Quit paying taxes. Sue for happiness damage. Buy a supply of candles and treat the lady to a candlelit dinner with husbandgrilled steak, cooked to the perfection she likes.

And maybe have a CD playing in the background. How about Botch-a-Me?

Dodie Evans is the editor emeritus of the Westside Eagle Observer and may be contacted by e-mail at [email protected].

Opinion, Pages 6 on 09/07/2011