I am, of course. There has never been any doubt about it. I am the boss in my house. That’s not to say that Margaret does everything I ask. Or, for that matter, does anything I ask. None the less, I am the boss.
For instance, when Margaret asks me to take out the trash, I’ll do it – when I feel like it. Once she asks (or tells) me to do it, it seems that I start to imagine I’m smelling the trash and that’s no good. So I usually take it out within a few minutes. That’s the only reason I take it out so soon.
When we travel someplace by car, I drive. I drive because I insist on driving. Margaret never argues with me. This has nothing to do with the fact that she hates driving.
When she asks me to cook lunch, I only do it so I don’t have to eat her cooking. I ask her what she wants but than I cook what I want. If she says pizza we’re in luck because I love pizza. Or she might say mushroom soup, which I don’t like. So I tell her she might as well give me another choice as I don’t intend to cook mushroom soup. So she’ll offer the second choice of, say, me sleeping on the couch. I cook mushroom soup as it is now my choice.
So it is clearly settled, as it was nearly 20 years ago when we married – I am the boss of my house.
Well, I’ll ask Margaret if I can post this now.
PS. Margaret has a good sense of humor and if EITHER of us felt the above represented the truth, NEITHER of us would want it published. Honest!