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action or later. Please see Debugging in WordPress for more information. (This message was added in version 6.7.0.) in /home/thesuburbanlife/thesuburbanlife.com/wp-includes/functions.php on line 6114I’m pretty sure this post will not be featured in any feminist magazines nor will I be asked to be thekeynote speaker at any futureNOW conventions but I had some revelations today about my husband and the male race, in general. As I was watching my hubby heft gigantic extension cords and Christmas lights all over the rooftopin 20 degree weather as I sat cozily inside sipping hot coffee with heat blasting at my feet I couldn’t help but thank the Lord in heaven that I am not a man, <\/em>more specifically a man married to me. <\/em>Sure, women have some pretty hefty crosses to bear, i.e. pregnancy, birth, menstruation, occasional outbursts of pent-up emotions primarily induced by fluctuating hormones, menopause and an overall sense of urgency to save the world and all those who inhabit it. But men, they are a different creature altogether and have a set of obligations I am glad to be sheltered from.<\/p>\n Allow me to explain.<\/p>\n 1) Men have hair growing on their faces at alarming rates.<\/em> Okay, so I know some women (and have occasionally experienced this myself) who can grow hair to rival the manliest of men but in general, women have been spared this phemonenon. My hubby can shave first thing in the morning and by 1:00 that same afternoon look like he’s prepping for the Iditarod. That would drive me insane <\/em>as I hate it when my legs start sproutingthe 2nd or 3rd day after shavingand hairstarts poking through my bed sheets.<\/p>\n 2) I’m not great with insects or rodents.<\/em> My hubby has the job of exterminating from existence anything which crosses my path. Be it spider, mouse or those black beetle-looking things which hover on doorjams ready to inject some mysterious poison into my bloodstream rendering me incapable of calling for help it is his sworn duty to take it away<\/em>. I don’t care what he does with it, whether it bemeeting its maker or he goes all Grizzly Adams and releases it back into the wild,as long as it exits my humble abode.<\/p>\n 3) I lose all sense of reason when auto maintenance is necessary. <\/em>It once took me 6 attempts to center my car over the hydraulic lifts at an Oil Can Henrys. I would pull forward andthe dude in the1914 version of a skullcap would wave me back. I’dback up, lock in on the floor markers andslowly make my way forward. Damn. Missed it agian. I seriouslywanted a cigarette after all was said and done and I don’t even smoke<\/em>. Jer has sincetaken over all things auto. I say,” Good Riddance!”<\/p>\n