The Call of the Domestic

He Said - by Blaine Staat

There I am, braving the elements of the Yukon winter, ice crystals frozen to my face as my trusty sled dogs bravely charge across the frozen wasteland. As I fight against the blinding light of the cold sun, the frigid wind lashing my face, and the uncertainty of my own survival, I have never felt more like a man. Jack London’s world has become my own, and just as I begin to think that nothing could ever tear me away from this land, a jagged crack rips through the sky, and The Call of the Wild is suddenly – viciously – overwhelmed by the call of the domestic.

“Blaine, honey,” she calls. “Can you come here for a second?”

I snap back to the present, and with some chagrin I find that I am of course relaxing in a warm, comfortable chair. (Despite appearances, I am not completely stupid; while I certainly don’t mind reading about 60 below, I could certainly make it to my grave with no great amount of disappointment if I never actually experience it).

I quickly analyze the “Blaine, honey”. While I proclaim general ignorance to the overall ways of women, like most men who have shared years of their lives with a woman, I have come to some understanding of the subtle nuances of how my name is called. From the common you’re in big trouble “Blaine” to the less frequent that was so sweet of you “Blaine”, I can often prepare myself for what lies ahead (and sometimes actually put the shovel away) prior to answering.

To my dismay, I realize that this is the I want to completely rearrange the furniture in the living room for no particular reason “Blaine”, with the “can you come here for a second?” meaning that she intends to have this done right now. Tentacles of basic instinct reach out to me from the rapidly fading arctic, urging me to make a decision on which my life may depend: Fight or flight?

I don’t think most men really understand the “rearranging of the room” disorder that seems to constantly plague the fairer sex. In fact, I doubt that the thought would ever even occur to us. Left to my own devices, I can fairly admit that wherever the moving guys put the stuff when they unloaded the truck would no doubt be perfectly okay with me. They are trained professionals, you know.

But whether it’s some aberrant genetic trait or simply a less appealing aspect of “nesting syndrome”, it is a predicament that husbands often seem to find themselves in for no good reason at all. And no matter how reassuring my agreement is to her that “it most certainly does in fact need to be done”, I’m still puzzled that it should be so bewildering to Catherine that I don’t share the urgency of the situation. It’s not like it can’t be done tomorrow.

“Blaine,” she calls, with the I know you can hear me and if you don’t come down here in the next few seconds you’re going to be in big trouble “Blaine.”

Well, I’ve got to go. Like I said, I’m not completely stupid.


She Said - by Catherine Staat

Now that we have been in our new/old home for a few months and have gotten past the “unpacking and settling in” stage, I find that I have become inspired to make each room comfy and cozy. When the movers were unloading the truck and asking me very politely, “Where would you like this to go ma’am?” (and knowing how tired they must have been with several trips back & forth and going up & down the stairs), I didn’t feel that I could ask them to “rearrange it” several times to see where I might like it. That is a process that takes some time and thought.

You can’t just place items anywhere…conversational seating has to be considered, as well as having a certain “flow” to the room. So I settled on having the furniture placed less with thought about where it should go than with sympathy towards the gentlemen who were having to carrying our things out of the truck and into the house.

Weeks have gone by, and we have settled into a routine of sorts with the house. You get a feel sooner or later as to how you wish to place your furniture, and once you do there are no “ifs”, “ands”, or “buts” – you are ready to make the room!

Knowing Blaine as I do, I have learned to first “plant the seeds”. That is, I can’t just go in and say I would like something done on the spur of the moment. I have to carefully prepare the soil beforehand (i.e., get Blaine ready for moving furniture around). Subtle hints must be dropped here and there; “Honey, how would the television cabinet look over there?” (Caution must be used on this one Ladies; especially when the piece of furniture you are asking to be moved is so heavy it requires at least three people to move!)

Patience is required when trying to prepare a reluctant hubby who would much rather go to the dentist than have to face the prospect of moving furniture around. After a few days - or even weeks - of subtle hint dropping, however, it is time to get moving! A Lady’s desire to have her home comfortable for those who not only live there, but for her guests as well, is a drive that cannot be contained until she has her home looking and feeling the way she thinks it should.

After much contemplation as to the seating arrangement and how everything will look best in the room (along with the other items that have to be considered…pictures, lamps, rugs, tables and knick-knacks), we are driven to make it happen like yesterday! I am ready to go, only to hear things like, “I think it looks just fine like it is!”

Those comments can be quite the downer, especially when I am trying to get across to my darling husband that the arrangement of the room is truly important to me. In a way, how my home looks on the inside is a reflection of me and what I think & feel about making my house a home.

With gentle guiding and persuasion, I finally get Blaine to see how important it really is, and he reluctantly moves the furniture around to make it cozy. It only takes about a day or two later for him to admit that, “Hey, it actually does look better this way, honey!”

Now to help him see how we really need to take down the wallpaper and paint the ceilings that - if you asked my husband - might as well be 20 feet tall, before we begin painting the walls, which of course, will require moving the furniture I just asked him to move so that we can . . .