Squeegee for your life

Krider learns about the dangers of hard water

I've been married for 20 years, in a row, to the same woman. I give credit to my two-decade-long marital success to one single thing: Keeping Mrs. Krider happy. Just like the saying goes, happy wife, happy life. I do what I can to keep my wife smiling. Now, even though it is my priority to always keep my wife happy, that doesn't mean I immediately acquiesce to every single request she has. Not because I don't want to quickly make my wife happy, but because I'm a bit dumb and occasionally slow on the uptake.

I eventually relent and do whatever my wife wants. However, sometimes, it takes me a while to clue in. Since I'm merely just a dumb male mammal, I need a bit of training. Especially when it comes to things guys don't normally comprehend. For instance, I don't understand complicated things like duvets, dust ruffles, and fingertip towels. The reality is it took me 10 years of marriage just to understand the proper operation of the toilet seat. For those men who don't already know the proper operation themselves, I'll fill you in: You don't touch the seat, ever. Don't raise it. Don't lower it. Leave it down and when you are at home you sit down on the toilet like a girl. Either that or you sneak out into the backyard and pee with the dog. It's your choice.

Recently, I found myself being housebroken again. I was being trained by my wife, and similar to my toilet seat training, I knew I was learning because I was in trouble. What was I in trouble for this time? Well, I had been committing the unforgivable felonious death penalty crime of failing to squeegee the glass shower door. Shame, shame, know your name.

In my defense, I had never owned a glass shower door before. I didn't know these things needed to be squeegeed. I was ignorant of the fancy lifestyle that comes from shower door ownership. Previously, I just had a shower curtain in my life, and coincidently, fewer complications. With the recent purchase of a new home (a home my wife wanted), I was living the high life by having fancy new things like tile floors and a glass shower door. The Kriders had arrived. What I didn't understand was that with nice things, comes a nice new amount of responsibility. Glass shower doors needed to be squeegeed. And they needed to be squeegeed daily. And they needed to be squeegeed by me with care and affection to prove to my wife that I love her. Nope, it didn't make sense to me either

Obviously I had a lot to learn. And squeegeeing is more complicated than you think. My wife, whom I love, was yelling at me, "It's up and down, not side to side!" Apparently I don't understand concepts like water and gravity. But what I really didn't comprehend was that I was in a massive war to the death with an evil force in our house: hard water. As it was explained to me, over and over again, hard water deposits can leave a film on a glass shower door. Apparently, this is a very serious issue. You see, film on the shower door, from the irresponsible lack of squeegeeing properly, can cause disastrous effects on many different facets of life. First it leaves water spots on the glass, obviously. But, a hard water deposit on a piece of glass also rips the wings from angels, cuts the horns off of unicorns, and takes candy away from babies. If I didn't squeegee the shower door after every time I used the shower, then I was contributing to the death of mythical creatures as well as the death of any possible nighttime extracurricular activities between the wife and me ever again.

At first I tried to rebel a bit. I told her, "This shower door weirdness is your thing, if you're so into the water spot issue, then you squeegee the glass. I have to get to work." This argument was defeated with a raised eyebrow and slight tilt of the head. I realized right then that if I was in the shower, then it would be my responsibility to squeegee said shower.

I had a very simple solution to the problem. If I was required to squeegee the shower door every time I took a shower, then I just wouldn't take any more showers. Problem solved. My wife, who sits next to me on the couch and has to smell me, did not see this as a viable solution. She wanted me to get on board with the squeegeeing process. I needed to learn how to squeegee the hell of that shower door. I needed to know how to do it without leaving streaks, without missing any spots, and without complaining.

Like any good husband, I complained about it for a while. But over time, just like any dumb animal, I was eventually trained into compliance through little treats. My favorite is cheese and crackers. I'll squeegee every window in the house for some sharp cheddar. Over time, I began to squeegee the shower door like it was second nature. In the shower, the order is: pits, hair, then squeegee time.

The important thing to understand is that now my wife is happy. And our shower door is so clean it's dangerous. You can't even see it. Somebody could inadvertently walk right into the thing, smash into it, and be cut into a thousand pieces. That doesn't seem safe to me, but that is what the wife wants, so I keep the place clean. No streaks or anything. I came, I saw, and I conquered hard water.

Rob always squeegees now, even at a hotel. You can read more from Rob Krider or contact him at robkrider.com.

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