Thanksgiving Day was imminent. My wife had set about to work on the pies and other foodstuffs for the holiday. To be a help to her I volunteered to clean the house. I announced on Facebook, “I am helping my wife by dusting. I just discovered that the dust bunnies have been taking my die cast cars for joyrides!”

I got “likes” from a couple of women. Then, I posted, “Do you realize that if this gets out I will be called Cinderfella? I will never be allowed in a man cave again. Well maybe an oldman cave. Still…” As I began dusting I imagined what would be in an old man cave…Geritol? Ensure? An electric blanket, a rocking chair, an old fashioned slide projector, an ATT desk phone, an 8-track tape player, copies of 30 year old magazines, 70’s decorating scheme complete with dingy yellowish shag carpeting…but no knick-knacks – die cast cars, trucks, motorcycles and the like, but absolutely nothing ceramic.

The tedious and unrewarding drudgery of taking the do-dads off the shelf, dusting the shelf, wiping off the decorative frippery and putting it all back – exactly the way it was began causing mental anguish! “This dusting is mind-numbing.” I fussed.

“How would you know?” My wife asked.

“I’d explain it to you, but my mind is already too numb for a good come-back.” I informed her.

Just then, a great idea blew through the conceptualization center of my mind (That does not imply “in one ear and out the other!”). I rehearsed in my mind how I routinely used the leaf blower for cleaning the garage. “You know,” I thought to myself, “This just might work.”

While my wife worked in the kitchen, I bonked and banged my way inside with the leaf blower. She just kept working away, and without looking up, asked, “What are you doing?”

“Dusting.” I replied matter-of-factly while unraveling the extension cord and plugging it in the wall. Just as she looked up and her mouth opened to say something, I flipped the switch and began “dusting”. She kept her distance and watched proudly from a distance, definitely amazed at the ingenuity of her hero.

I posted, “Actually, the leaf blower is working well. The only problem is the houseplants and fragile knick-knacks. Not only is the dusting getting done, but I won’t have to vacuum! Yeah!”

Sometimes the knick-knacks would pirouette and wobble, but because of my attentiveness and cat-like reflexes, not one decorative thing fell or broke.

As I worked diligently blowing the dust off the shelves, I found that it would get ceiling fans going quite fast, then when blown from the opposite side the direction of the fan could be reversed – over and over again. About this time, my wife left a message on Facebook for the other ladies to pray for her. I’m not sure why.

I also discovered that I could take care of the vacuuming with the leaf blower. I must mention at this point that I had both the front and back doors open providing flow-through ventilation and an escape for the dust bunnies. Everything from floor to ceiling had been dusted in a matter of a few minutes!

My wife had mentioned to me that the shower needed some attention, as well. I ran to the computer and posted “Who wants to scrub the tub? Gonna get the pressure washer out and blast the lime away.”

I plugged in my handy-dandy portable Karcher, and began shooting the shower with the pressure washer. I discovered when water is forced into the soap cubby it flies immediately back into the face of the pressure washer operator. Who’d a thunk it?

I also figured the shower curtain would contain the mess. Instead, it blew outward and allowed the dirty water to soak the curtains, towels, tissues and toilet paper. I ended up having to get the wet-and-dry Shop-Vac from the garage to clean up the water mess.

“Not everything went well for Tim “The Toolman” Taylor either,” I entered on Facebook.

A responding post amazed me, “Lol, I loved that show…” Somehow, they failed to see the gravity of my situation.

I had imagined people, especially the female kind, sitting on the edges of their seats waiting for the next update, but alas it was not so. It turned out that the ladies couldn’t bear to read about it, the guys assumed the worst and unfriended me, and my wife considers me her hero… “Right dear?”