SomaCow

I love women, don’t get me wrong.

But they…it’s just…they can’t…they always have to…

WHY CAN’T THEY MAKE UP THEIR FREAKIN’ MINDS?!

So, you buy a house. By which I mean you visit every one of the 1,800 model homes in your area, pretending to be interested when the woman says “I love the vaulted dormer soffits” or “this would make a perfect breakfast nook!”. Look, I’m a man, I have no idea what a “breakfast nook” is. It sounds like a kind of English Muffin.

Then, you move all your furniture and crap in, which is a seven-week process, during which you nearly lose a finger in the footrest of the recliner and, even if you never set foot in the attic, you somehow always wind up with fiberglass insulation in your hair. The point is that you haul your years of accumulated “treasures” into your brand new house. Then, exhausted and most likely bleeding, you collapse onto the chaise lounge (for which the cushions have not yet arrived) and you think to yourself “Finally this is over!”.

Ha! You are a foolish little man.

Why? Because, what is the very next thing the woman in your life wants to do?

“Christen” the house by having sex in each and every room, including the closets, pantry, attic, garage and various crawlspaces in the ceiling?

No.

She wants to redecorate and remodel!

You can plan on spending every Sunday for the rest of your life moving furniture in a circular pattern around each room, until it finally winds up back where it was to begin with. The tons of furniture that you moved in by hand will, of course, immediately need to be replaced with more expensive furniture because your college beanbag chair “looks ratty next to the elegant armoire”. Hey! When we loaded up the trucks, there WAS no armoire. Suddenly, one has appeared, complete with knick-knacks (which she will now complain about having to dust). Men don’t have knick-knacks! We have old copies of Playboy! I have never dusted mine once and they are just fine!

Now that you’re $24,000 in debt with “The Home Furnishing Decor Salon Parlor and Bistro”, you can finally relax and enjoy your new home, right?

Seriously? You’re going to fall for that again?

No, now you have to open an account at “The House-Fixing Depot” because the “perfect love nest” that SHE chose has inexplicably become a “fixer-upper”. Dammit, woman! The house is only eleven hours old!

I just don’t know how to cope with the standard female trait of never, ever being satisfied with anything they have.

You want to know what I would do? You want to see my idea of “redecorating”? Do ya?!

This is a diagram outlining the most convoluted redecorating plan I could POSSIBLY ever concoct, even after twelve beers (click the pic for full-sized image):