If You Give a Mouse a Cookie – A Cautionary Husband’s Tale

If you give your wife a gallon of paint, she’ll probably hand you the brush.

When she hands you the brush, she will likely want the bathroom painted quickly.

When the bathroom is painted, she will notice the rust on the shower curtain rod.

Once the curtain rod is new, she’ll say it needs a new curtain.

After the shower curtain is replaced, she will point out that the towels don’t match.

When she buys new towels, she’ll discover the towel holders are old.

In replacing the towel holders, you’ll probably make large holes in the drywall.

After you patch the holes you made, you’ll have to repaint that part of the wall.


Just when you think you’re finished, you’ll notice you spilled paint on the carpet.

When you scream (potentially a naughty word) in anger, your wife will say “Oh well, we need tile anyway.”

After you tile the bathroom, she’ll mention the toilet doesn’t belong.

When the new toilet is installed, you’ll glare at your betrothed and wonder what she will happen upon next.

Your wife, in return, will peck you on the cheek and say, “This looks good, darling. Come have a seat in your chair. I made you fresh cookies. Want some milk? Oh, and while you’re here, have you seen the state of the den?”



This cautionary tale is partially fiction. My lovely wife was very satisfied with the paint, shower curtain rod, shower curtain, and towels – after I fixed holes I made in the drywall and may or may not have used a potty word (tree falling in the forest).

Regardless… Husbands – heed the moral of the story:

Don’t ever believe that a gallon of paint promising to be a $25 room refresh will cost only $25!


How the Squatty Potty Has Me Doubting Everything I’ve Ever Learned

It started as a joke. I had never heard of this thing called the Squatty Potty, but anything with such a name must be investigated. When I went to Amazon and read the reviews, I was hooked – laughing my butt off. I slowly found myself believing that this might be a revolution in elimination. As a sample, I offer this haiku left by a satisfied user:

“Oh Squatty Potty
You fill me with endless joy
Yet leave me empty.”

There are many more – some that will make you howl with laughter and maybe pee a little, although the squatty potty won’t help with that. My research even led me to Dookie the Unicorn and this compelling ad:

Then I saw the price and this is where I leave you. I am not about to spend $25 on a piece of plastic no matter how funny and glowing the reviews! I made my final decision and thought it was over. Along came Christmas. I’m one of those people who is impossible to buy for. My dresser is full of bright t-shirts with pithy sayings. This year, my daughters went in together and, you guessed it, wrapped up a Squatty Potty for me. It was a joke, but no one’s laughing now.

Everyone tried it and let me just say, it works – Big Time! Believe the hype. I’ll spare you the details unlike some of those hysterical reviewers.

I do, however, have some major complaints.

First – Toilet time for a man with four children has always been somewhat sacred. I have done some of my best thinking in the lavatory and believe that I could have solved some of the world’s greatest problems had life not beckoned. And now it is gone. Average time with this product leaves just a few seconds for coherent thought.

Second – The thing is like a magnet. We have four toilets in the house and yet I find everyone moving to and in mine. The packaging should include a lock for the door.

Finally, and most importantly – Using the toilet was one of the first things I learned to do way back when my feet dangled from it. Now at the age of forty-nine I have discovered that I have been doing it wrong all along. What’s next? Is this an isolated situation? What else am I blundering?

  • Have I been breathing wrong all this time? Maybe if I had learned better I could breathe underwater… or through my ears.
  • Perhaps I walk wrong and if I perambulated differently, I could do it faster… or longer… or on my hands.
  • Would my penmanship could be neater if I had learned with my feet?


This is where I have a major issue with the Squatty Potty! It has me doubting everything I’ve ever learned. The very foundation of my life’s instruction has been shaken to the core by a little stool – okay, a lot of stool – and I’m not sure how to reconstruct my existence.