Little children

Sometimes, and I suspect there are plenty of wives out there that can relate to this, sometimes, it feels like I have five children not four. The fifth? Appears in men's clothing and sleeps with me.

As I lay here this morning, trying to muster motivation to get up and start my day, K has already left - off to ref some hockey. But as I lay here - I'm staring at this large monstrocity of a telescope in the corner of my bedroom.

He had to have it. He used his usual tactics about two years ago to whine his way into owning it. He'd really like it. If he got it, he knows he'd use it. He started researching it and went looking with a friend of ours and then, one weekend I gave in and bought him the damn thing. Yes, I bought it. It was a gift of some kind - a pretty damn nice gift if I do say so - but he picked it out and we packed it up and when we got home he quickly set to work putting it together. For the next couple of days, he would call me excitedly over to look at some star that, if you really want my opinion, looked just like the star I normally see but a little bigger and a little brighter. Astronomy is apparently not an interest of mine.

But I was so happy to see him interested in something. He's a man in search of a hobby. I have hobbies, I have interests - and I'm always encouraging him to find something he has passion for (besides hockey...). After about a week, maybe, he got 'busy', he got 'distracted', he got tired of the fancy, schmancy (thank God I didn't buy the one we could hook up to the computer) telescope and it sat. And sat. And gathered dust. And risked being knocked over by children. And gathered more dust (which I'm pretty sure isn't good for a big fancy telescope) and I got angry. Eventually, I started a fight - 'are you ever going to use that thing? if you aren't can we at least sell it? why the hell did we buy it just to have it sit there?'

I'm nothing if not practical.

It got dismantled and set under our bed. That was his solution. I guess he figured if he got it out of my vision, I'd shut up. I did. But whenever I vacuumed and hit the darn thing with my power head, I cursed.

The other week, we rearranged our bedroom. Out from under the bed came the very dusty pieces of the telescope. I complained again about it - 'you should just sell the thing. its going to get wrecked laying there.'

So, he put it back together and it is now sitting in the corner of our bedroom. Gathering dust.

There is a large monstrocity in the basement we will tackle next- the weight set. It was a 'I have to have it. If we buy it, I will use it' kind of thing last winter. I think it might be the final straw.

Do you think there are foster homes for husbands?