Photos and Owner's Manuals
This, on the other hand, is what boredom must look like:
These are Mr. K's feet, propped up on the office chair. I have no idea whatsoever why he took not one, but two photos of his feet (they're pretty much alike--I figured that if you've seen one, you've seen 'em both), but it was on the media card when I went to download the photos. I've always wondered what men do when they're alone in their manly places (shop, home office). I figured it had to do with scratching or something...but it seems to have more to do with feet. Or photos. Or photos of feet. Am I the only one who thinks men should have come with some sort of owner's manual?
I know, men say that women should come with manuals, but I don't know why. It's not like they ever read the manuals anyway. In my experience, they sort of start with "Oh, I don't need that thing", progress through "What the hell...?" and finally snatch the thing up in an irritated fashion so that they can point out "look at the dumbass way they said to put this together." At this point, it's no good pointing out that, dumbass or no, the one pictured in the manual at least stands upright/has wheels on opposite corners of the downward facing side/has fewer than half the bolts and screws leftover/is not making any sort of strange and threatening noise/has not fallen on and crushed a cat/looks in some vague way like the thing it was supposed to be. If you do, the man will simply wave his hand and point out that "it's supposed to look like this and manuals are for sissies." (For the record, this is not a good time to point out that a sissy with uncrushed cats, a pile of leftover screws that could fit in one hand, and a wheeled device that can actually roll is probably a happy person and may not mind being a sissy. This observation is strangely unwelcome to most men.) Apparently, it is important not to be told how you're screwing something up until it's actually screwed up. A full experience, and all that.
I, for one, would dearly love a book that started thusly:
"Congratulations on your purchase of a model 1961A Man. With proper care and maintanence, your man should give you many years of enjoyment. Some things to consider:
Care and Feeding: Men require a steady diet of things you purchased for yourself and were looking forward to, things you don't have in the house, things that will give them gas, and things that will dirty the largest number of pots, pans and dishes. If none of these things are available, large slabs of red meat may be substituted, or startlingly unhealthy fare from establishments that sell food of the 'Call your Cardiologist Before Consuming' type (such as the new dipping pizza from Pizza Hut, that comes with marinara, garlic sauce, and ranch dressing--because four pounds of bread and cheese with greasy meat was WAY too healthy and really needed a good slug of salad dressing to dunk it in).
Your man will not require clean clothes most of the time and, if he does, he has a built-in clean-clothes detector, also known as the 'sniff the pits of the shirt and if you don't pass out it's okay to wear' feature. Additionally, he is quite likely to become attached to his clothing. Even if his underwear is a strange and disturbing shade of gray, is so thin you could read through it, has elastic so worn out that the leg and waist openings are all roughly the same tired size, or are just so damned old that they consist primarily of a waistband and an idea, DO NOT THROW THEM OUT. Doing so will overload the circuits of your man and it is not guaranteed that he can be repaired. Do not attempt to substitute new underwear, as the man can be severely traumatized by the sensation of clean, soft cloth against his body. Major systems failure is not out of the question.
Your new man will require only about 50% of the bed. Unfortunately, it will be the center 50%. You will need to find a way to sleep in the 25% on either side of him. If you can sleep with an elbow in your face, even better. Likewise, he will require the same center 50% of the blanket, but only in the winter. In the summer, he can be relied upon to pile it generously on top of you, causing you to wake up gasping in a puddle of sweat the size of Lake Erie.
Your man comes equipped with one or more remote controls. They do not operate him, but everything with which he comes into contact. Do not attempt to remove the remote control from his hand. Doing so will lead to a serious short that will cause him to stare blankly at the TV until the remote is replaced. This particular model will need to channel surf during every commercial break, but only long enough to cause you to miss an essential portion of the show you were watching when he forgets what channel it was on and can't get back to it. It is tempting to hide the remote at this time; if you do so, be prepared for your man to assume a fetal position and whimper quietly until it is returned.
The 1961A man comes with many skills and talents. He was not, however, programmed with the ability to bridge the gap between sink and dishwasher. For all intents and purposes, this gap is a black hole to your man, terrifying to him on a primal level. Do not attempt to force your man across that hole. It will not be pretty.
The man in general has very good eyesight, especially for things like tool stores, gnat-sized damage done by any of the cats to any piece of furniture, anything at all done to any vehicle that he drives, and the last cookie in the house. There are a number of gaps in his vision, however--specifically crumbs, toothpaste globs in the sink, whiskers on any bathroom surface, shoes in the middle of the floor, half-empty milk glasses in the living room, and the calendar where the birthdays of his relativese are posted. He is physically incapable of seeing any of these objects and there is no place in his field of vision where that improves. You will need to allow for this."
Hmmm...this could be promising. Any other suggestions? What needs to be in the "Man Owners Manual"? At least you know we'll read it.
Happy knitting, and look again at that picture of compassion. That's all you. You're making this possible.