Had an interesting weekend recently. Having been away a bit, I pledged some home time with the better half.

I told her whatever she wanted to do, I was at her disposal. Sounds very magnanimous of me? But I had learnt from a previous experience that the husband has to be very clear when it comes to making arrangements.

A few weeks earlier, on a long weekend in fact, I had been away Friday, Saturday and Sunday and had made the same pledge about the Monday.

We had walked early and then I asked what she wanted to do and the reply was the same, “What do you want to do?”.

I came back with “Whatever you want to do,” and the pattern continued.
Now I should have figured something was going on when she was all dressed up from-mid morning, but being a man I didn’t and that merry-go-round of who is doing what went on until after lunch when I eventually settled down and watched the AFL.

At exactly 4pm when the day was shot I copped, “Well thanks a lot, the day is over and we never had an outing, you are hopeless!”

I was amazed, but I eventually figured out that even though I had asked, pledged, begged, I alas didn’t make a decision that I thought was someone else’s.

Confused, are you? Well, so was I, but I promised myself not to make the same mistake again, hence last weekend.

So Friday night we discussed what we were going to do and I was told it was about time we bought a barbecue, as we had given the last one to our kids years ago (footnote: the last one we bought took me six hours to put together and only after I had nearly assaulted a kid at Kmart to get a missing part off the display model so I could complete the mission).

So this time I had a plan, but I was then told that we should have a look for a second-hand one, which scared me a bit, as I really don’t like going to strangers’ houses to buy things. But, alas, I was in no position to debate.

So the next morning we headed to “on Buderim”, after Sheila had rung a lady who had advertised in the classifieds.

When we got there we were greeted by a delightful retired couple who proceeded to tell us that after we had rung they had decided to give the barbecue one final clean before we got there and it had slipped off its frame. On inspection it was jammed in its timber trolley and no amount of pushing and pulling could budge it.

While I was trying to get it apart and save my chubby fingers from being severed I was thinking how to tell them that the barbecue wasn’t for me.

But they kindly suggested that maybe we should look somewhere else which saved me from buying something I didn’t want but didn’t have the heart to tell them. Funnily enough, when we left it was like old friends after a visit, so all wasn’t lost.

Focused on the task at hand we headed to Barbecues Galore, which I must say is a fat man’s paradise, although the pictures of what can be achieved on the displays look nothing like what my efforts usually achieve, which is more like the charred remains in a scene out of CSI.

But before we even got into the shop old mate spotted some guys filling a mini skip with stuff from a nearby shop and after asking them whether she could have a look, and me shaking my head behind her, we ended up with half a ute full of cast-offs from an office supply shop.

Her reasoning was some she could use, some she could give to others and the rest to the op shop.

So back to the barbecue, as sadly there were none in the skip. We were served by a lovely young girl who sold us the display one so I didn’t have to put it together, and all the bits and piece that go with it.

I even asked a young guy there to help me tie it in the back. With 57 truckie’s knots we headed off for our two kilometre journey home, although it was that secure I could have attacked Mount Coolum.

Now here is the thing. As we drove off, I asked her was she happy?
“Fantastic, now I can use that fish press I bought at the op shop a few weeks ago for three bucks”.

It all became clear, and yes, we do lead an exciting life.