The Financial Illiterate

 

home, cooks a meal, does laundry, and works out. I can understand why she always hits the sack at ten-thirty. I've been out like a light by nine since I reluctantly volunteered to do some of the household tasks.

I can't defend my previous lack of respect for house-work. And I don't have to. It's my mother's fault. The wife of a high school principal, she has never held a paying job. As with most of their contemporaries, Dad brought home the bacon and Mom cooked it. While he was at work, Mom would do all the household chores, leaving her evenings free.

To my great pleasure, I was asked to do very little. While other kids mowed the lawn or shoveled snow, I chased down fly balls or played road hockey. I'm not sure why my parents were so easy on me, but to this day, I ap-preciate it.

On the other hand, Sue's parents, bucking the spoil-the-only-child stereotype, raised Sue to be a diligent worker. And to this day, I appreciate that even more! By the time we were married, she was used to doing housework and preparing meals. Being used to something, though, and enjoying it are far from synonymous. Now that I have come to realize just how much drudgery is involved in running a home, I am determined to become a new and improved person.

The guys on the slo-pitch team have started a pool, betting on how long the new me will last. Our pitcher in-forms me that the longest guess is four months—that is, until Sue is no longer pregnant. The shortest prediction, three weeks, was submitted by my wife. Now that's confidence.

As if taking it from the guys on the team two nights a