Rather than making my own New Year’s resolutions, I decided to let my wife create some for me. She’s best suited for the task, since she keeps a careful tally of my failings and deficiencies.
And so (with an assist from my wife) here are my 2016 resolutions:
1. Find shoe-stretchers. I bought a pair of shoe-stretchers in 2015. This may seem old-fashioned, like purchasing a milk churn or a Victorian bee-keeping outfit. Still, over the years I’ve acquired many pairs of perfectly good shoes that are too tight.
I had tried stretching these shoes by filling them with bags of water and putting them in the freezer. It’s an Internet tip — the water turns to ice and expands, thus stretching the shoes. Unfortunately, something went awry. When my wife opened the freezer door, two shoefuls of water splashed onto her.
After a short and animated discussion, I bought the shoe-stretchers. They’re made of wood and are attractive-looking in a 19th-century kind of way.
Unfortunately, I stored my shoe stretchers somewhere for safe-keeping and promptly forgot their whereabouts.
2. Less complaining. I once counted myself among the square-jawed folk who endure hardship with nary a complaint. Typically, these people are Arctic explorers, wheat farmers and guys who sail solo across the Atlantic.
However, my wife begs to differ. She says I continually complain about one thing after another, including the weather, too-slow cashiers and sodium-free soups with no discernible taste.
This personality trait reached its apex during our 2015 trip to Italy. Apparently, my wife’s companion (let’s call him “Mr. X”) trudged the streets of Florence in Mediterranean heat complaining of being tired and hot, with the unrelenting delivery of a Texas cattle auctioneer.
In light of this, Mrs. X’s 2016 resolution for Mr. X is to avoid such behaviour with extreme prejudice. In particular, the following phrases are verboten: “Stupid lineup,” “I’m hungry (or bored or thirsty),” “Why don’t they serve beer in proper pint glasses?” and “What’s with the ill-fitting suit?”
3. Stop losing it when broadcasters use clichés. Mr. X gripes every time a newscaster uses the following phrases: “big cat” (instead of cougar), “marine mammal” (instead of whale), “white stuff” (instead of snow) and “any time soon” (as in “it appears the Christy Clark government won’t solve the homeless problem any time soon”). Mr. X now realizes this must stop, unless he intends to join the ranks of homeless himself.
4. Listen more. Sometimes, Mrs. X produces a list of chores to be carried out by Mr. X. Some are tasks Mr. X has put off for many months, such as cleaning the gutters, replacing porch lights and removing the remains of a mummified rat inside the barbecue.
When Mrs. X reads off Mr. X’s job list, he remains curiously mute. Typically, Mr. X seems unable to take his eyes off the TV or computer screen. And when the reading of the job list is completed, Mr. X (oblivious of impending peril) turns to Mrs. X and says: “I’m sorry — were you talking to me?”
This must stop, says Mrs. X.
5. Stop watching so many silly TV shows and videos. During the Christmas holiday, Mr. X spent a good deal of time watching a single cat video. It was a video in which a cat (dressed in a monkey costume) licked a banana placed in front of it.
Mr. X watched this cat video ad nauseam, laughing loudly each time. Mrs. X says such behaviour is reminiscent of the baby who cackles delightedly each time somebody plays the peek-a-boo game, no matter how matter times it is repeated.
In addition, Mr. X wasted many hours viewing television shows featuring (1) a burning fireplace and nothing else (2) men who roam North America buying old junk from eccentric bumpkins (3) an impossibly handsome Australian veterinarian who treats koalas, snakes and exotic chickens whose feathers — for no apparent reason — are dyed unusual colours.
Mr. X now realizes his time is better spent attending to the mummified rat in the barbecue, which badly frightened Mrs. X when she discovered it.
6. Stop obsessively purchasing the same item over and over. Mr. X owns eight pairs of sunglasses. This is because he “loses” them, acquires a new pair, then discovers a full assortment of sunglasses in his sock drawer, cached in the manner of a raccoon or a crow. When this happens, he laughs delightedly, like the baby in the peek-a-boo game.
Also, he has four sets of headphones.
Next week: Donald Trump’s hairspray addiction — will it adversely affect the ozone layer?