"Please tell me you know how to operate the ironing board."
My request met with a massive amount of muttering. Sounds of a struggle continued from the other room. With a huge sigh, I gingerly swung my legs out of bed, heaved my aching back upwards, and tottered towards the noise.
I had asked my husband to set up the ironing board while I tried to stretch out the kinks in my back. Somehow, I'd managed to pull a muscle or two, and I'd hoped to lie down flat for just a moment before facing all the appointments of the day. But as I listened to my mechanically-minded man fight against one of the simplest items I own, I knew it was not to be.
He growled, I groaned, then we both laughed after I showed him how simple it really was to set up the ironing board. We tend to categorize certain things as "his" or "hers," and although we may see them in use everyday, we don't pay a lot of attention if it's not in our realm of responsibility. He's not inclined to iron anything, and I'm not likely to take up woodworking anytime soon. Still, we are striving to at least understand each other's interests. He's even said he might like to learn to sew stuffed animals someday.
But for now, my sewing machine is off-limits without close supervision.
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Margaritas to Mai Tais... 
