February 22, 2008

Well, at least I've got a couple of corners in the castle anyway...

By Dr. Bud E. Bryan

Austin, Texas. The tired old adage about a "man and his castle" has been obsolete for so long that it's almost not worth mentioning anymore. That idea went by the wayside years ago, mostly because it was never true to begin with. Case in point? Part of the deal with this whole "Domestic Tranquility" business down here at Dr. Bud's World Headquarters is realizing that it ain't my "world headquarters" at all. Because the reality is that it's very much Miss Jolene's domain, and I'm just lucky enough to have a room here. Most guys learn at some point (some later than others, unfortunately) that this cohabitation thing basically involves serious compromises - mostly on our parts. Yeah, sure, our ladies shrewdly let us have enough stuff and hold sway on a few things just to keep us somewhat pacified, but make no mistake, they run the show at home - and the more we go along to get along the better our day-to-day life is. Yeah, no big revelation here, but it's as if I have to remind myself by sayin' it out loud or typing it once in a while just to be sure.

Now, our house (which used to be my house years ago before she arrived on the scene) is a perfect example. What used to be a fairly nice little bungalow has been turned into a showpiece inside and out. Beautiful colors, exceptional details, lush landscaping, meticulous upkeep - the whole nine yards. Sometimes, I almost feel like a guest in my own house, except for my office and the garage. And I'm sure you readers out there are all silently nodding right about now. It just sort of happens. And it's wild just how quickly it happens too. One minute - when you're in that official Lust Stage - you're doing tequila shots downtown and then slammin' each other up against the walls when you get back 'til the wee hours of the morning. Then the next minute, she's moving "a few little things" in. And then the next minute you're being given strict instructions on where to put your shoes when you come in so as to not screw-up the fabulously renovated wood floors, you're being allotted a room for your "office" that she just throws her hands up about and shuts the door to it when you have company, you're warned about leaving clothes and towels around, and your hat rack is moved out of sight and has been overrun by weird colored hats that you wouldn't be caught dead wearing.

Oh well, that's what grown-up, guy-girl compromising is all about, I guess. When it comes to the household, girls dictate the what-when-where-why-how, and guys just kind of nod a lot, mumble a few things under our breath and say "ok" - figurin' we'll get to flash our resolute independence somewhere along the way. Me? I still go out to get the mail in my boxer shorts, long-sleeved Autoextremist T-shirt and cowboy boots. She cringes and yells "Bud!" out the window when she's home, and the old lady next door smiles at me when she sees me, but I think Jolene figures if that's the least offensive thing I do around here she can live with it. That, and she lets me have the garage, the last bastion of most guys' personal freedom once they've acquiesced to the whole domesticated thing.

Now, my garage is certainly no "Garage-Mahal" like those garages I see in Vintage Motorsport, but it's fine for me. Not that I wouldn't want one of those garages, especially with some of the iron those guys have accumulated, but I do have a refrigerator, a small LCD HD TV, a boom box and a rack for all my car-washing stuff, so I'm good. Jolene has a corner for all of her pots and other landscaping accoutrements, and occasionally while I'm out there she straightens things up and sweeps, but she learned long ago to let the garage be. After all, I keep her car clean, and she doesn't want to upset that routine, so she goes along with it. Not that I hang out there much, it's not that nice. But at least when I'm out I can pretend that it's my little domain.

We did have one semi-major episode here a while back though, and that is when I said that it was time to seriously upgrade the main TV in the living room. I had already gotten us situated with an HD LCD TV in the bedroom, which she bitched and moaned about - that is until she started seeing her favorite shows in HD - but the living room was another story. Now I don't know about you, but what is it about women and their distinctions between family rooms and living rooms? Most all of 'em I've run up against insist that a TV in the family room is ok, but in the living room, not so much. And Jolene is no exception.

Except we don't have a family room, per se, so that's a problem.

She's had the TV enclosed in this big piece of furniture for years, and she figured that if she could shut the doors on it and keep it out of view when not in use, then it was ok. So, I put an HD set in there, but you about needed a damned magnifying glass to see it. Every time I brought up getting a "proper-sized" TV (to my way of thinking - 50" or more) in the past, she insisted that the set would have to fit in the existing space, and as we well know, existing pieces of furniture and big flat screen TVs don't mix. So we've been stuck with this less-than-deal arrangement for a while now.

That is until right before the Super Bowl.

While she was getting primped-up one Saturday morning, I meandered into one of the local HD TV pushers and marveled at all of the new sets. I know they rig 'em up for optimum reception and all in the stores, but still, I found myself wandering around with about six other guys quietly "ooh-ing" and "ahh-ing" over the latest technology. (You can't just shout out, "Damn that's some picture!" in a TV store, you have to be cool. It's like secret guy code shit - even though we're all thinkin' it). So right then and there I decided that enough was enough and we were getting a new TV, no magnifying glass required.

I picked out the perfect set, went home and measured where it would go (minus her big wood thing, of course) and then waited for her to get home so she could hear about My Plan.

She quietly listened to my explanation, an impassioned 15-minute speech about football, technology, The Future (we had to do it with the new TV rules comin' and all!), how everything would be better including her shows (the Food Channel!), the Big Game, racing, even right down to Life its own damn self! After I was finished I was spent, like I had just finished another stop on the campaign trail.

She sat for a moment and then quietly said, "That's cool. I've been thinking of moving that armoire into the dining room for quite a while anyway. So when are we getting it?"
With that, she got up and wandered off down the hall.

WTF? I shouted after her, "You mean to tell me we've been watching football on that damn elf TV for months now and all along you were contemplating moving that wood thing?!?!"

I was incredulous.

Then her voice bounced back from the bedroom...

"Well, Bud, as you say, you just never know, now do ya'?"

I absolutely hate when she throws my lines back in my face. Fifteen minutes later, I was in the TV store finalizing the order. An hour after that Tom was over helping me move the dreaded wood thing into the dining room (Jolene pronounced it perfect). And two hours after that, they delivered the new TV and the pedestal stand.

That evening, while sitting on the couch with Jolene watching a movie, not able to completely savor the stunning picture on our new 52" LCD HD TV knowing full well that I had missed a whole season of football on it, I thought about that old "King and his castle" saying and just smiled.

After all, I may not be the King of mine, but at least I got a couple of corners I can call my own.

Adios until the next time.