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I've managed to survive more than six decades as a man and the titular head of my household by displaying the masculine, if not testosteronic mannerisms that define a man. I've been able to make a better than average living. I've maintained a home in an upscale neighborhood that is known for it's excessive taxes and people and I have loosed two smart, talented and productive children upon an unsuspecting public.I distinguished myself in a number of industries as a man of vision and displayed the fortitude that kept me in the forefront of people's minds. In short,I have fulfilled all of the requirements that my parents delineated to me prior to my passing puberty.

I am proud of my accomplishments. I am, in my mind, a man among men who can stand tall. Unfortunately, and I hesitate to sully my heretofore sterling reputation by mentioning this, not accomplished in one small area. Get your heads out of the gutter! I'm not talking about THAT! I am referring to the area of home-improvement. Yes that one place where most men will go to only when cornered by their wives. Oh those dreaded words uttered by the women we love as we are comfortably ensconced in our easy chairs watching a game or movie: "Honey, you need to fix this!"

"Oh God," we mutter to ourselves! Why does she have to either discover, or even more dastardly a move,break something on purpose when we are, well, firmly ensconced. If any of you have never been ensconced, you probably can't empathize with me.Take my word, being ensconced is rather pleasurable. But I digress.

"I"ll fix it later.I'm busy." Is generally my response. My wife having been my wife for many years, isn't taken in by that ruse. It is her firm opinion that even when I am truly busy, chances are it is nothing that is in any way,more important than anything she has for me to do. I could be giving blood to some poor hemophiliac, or out slaying dragons of one kind or another, or even answering the call of Homeland Security by eradicating the terrorist scourge in the world. Doesn't mean a thing! I have to stop what I am doing and attend to her needs. Such was the case this one Sunday in February some twenty years ago.

My friend and I had just come back to my house for some refreshment when my wife came out to greet us. Smiling, she said, hi to my friend, gave him a hug and kiss, and casually mentioned to me that one of the heat registers in the living room isn't putting out any heat. My response was: "Well that doesn't make it a BAD register."

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