by Jennifer Cohron
Jan 06, 2013 | 1701 views | 0 0 comments | 19 19 recommendations | email to a friend | print
Jennifer Cohron
Jennifer Cohron
Zac and I recently started reading a chapter in the Bible together at night. We began in Genesis, so one of our first discussions was about Adam and Eve.

Both translations we had said Eve was created to be a helper to Adam.

Since people get married for a lot of oddball reasons today, it’s interesting to note that the institution was created because man needed someone to share his load, even in Paradise.

Zac and I have always operated as a tag team.

Traditional gender roles don’t get much consideration in how we divide up the chores. For example, he cooks most of our meals, and I used to gladly help him cut grass before we had a little one to look after.

However, there are other areas where we fit our respective stereotypes.

I do the laundry. I do the dishes. I don’t do rodents or plumbing. Anything mechanical, really.

The night of the Adam and Eve discussion, I inadvertently stumbled on a topic where Zac is worse than useless — redecorating.

The conversation started harmlessly enough. I said that I want to take down the “I Love Lucy” memorabilia on one of our living room walls and replace it with several 8X10’s of Wyatt.

My plan for the “Lucy” stuff is to move it into our bedroom, which currently looks like a small shrine to Zac’s favorite sports.

A lot of it was placed haphazardly on the wall as it was purchased, so one of my goals is to get everything in groups — University of Alabama, Chicago Cubs, Cal Ripken Jr., baseball wedding, “Lucy.”

Then Tallulah Bankhead’s poster and I are going to have to have a talk about in which area of the room she would be most comfortable.

“Just tell me where you want everything, baby, and I’ll hang it,” Zac said. “Good boy,” I replied.

If I had any sense at all, I would have left it at that.

Instead, I asked if he thought the dresser could be moved down an inch or two so that it would centered with the wall it sits on instead of with our bed, which can’t be centered on its wall for reasons too complex to explain here.

Just take my word for it — it can’t.

Somehow, Zac misunderstood something I said and thought I wanted to move our chest of drawers, which is in a perfectly shaped cubby hole next to the closet, on the same wall as the dresser.

“Why would we want to do that?” I asked. Then I realized that the dresser can’t be moved down without covering up a nightlight.

Unfortunately, Zac was still on the chest thing.

“Then we could have that little area next to the closet open,” he said.

“But that would look dumb to have a big hole in that spot when we have a piece of furniture that fits there. What would we do with it?” I said.

“You could move some of my baseball pictures there.”

“Sweetie, listen to me. Your baseball pictures ARE moving.”

As the night wore on, some dummy (probably me) made the absurd suggestion of moving our bed to the wall where the dresser is now.

I spent longer than I should have deciding how much I hated the fact that anyone stepping into our bedroom would be perpendicular to our pillows.

Next we had the bed against the window, which meant anyone walking in would be at the foot of our bed and we probably couldn’t get our closet door open.

At some point, I realized I was judging these redecorating scenarios by how they would look to guests, which we never, ever have.

Our conversation blissfully ended a few minutes later when we jokingly had the bed in the living room behind the loveseat and were just using our bedroom as an office or an arcade.

I wonder if Adam and Eve had this much trouble in the Garden.