A Man's Home is His Castle

A Man's Home is His Castle


Whoever said a man’s home was his Castle either had a grand misconception about men or had a strange understanding of the definition of Castle. Mine is a corner easy chair and ottoman with side table in one corner of the family room.

My control of castle functions lasts only until my wife walks in and asks, “Isn’t there anything else on TV?”

It does not matter what the score is, how many seconds left in the game or what program I have been watching for the last 50 minutes. We go searching until she finds what I am supposed to be watching.

Take the other night, for example. I was watching a program and she came into the family room, having finished up with whatever had kept her busy the last hour or so.

She stood there, blocking my line of sight. I leaned around to watch. She moved. I leaned. She moved. I gave up. I didn’t want to fall out of the chair or drop the bowl of ice cream. If I did, she had an automatic win.
“What are you watching?” She asked.

“The Biggest Loser,” I replied.

She looked at the TV, then back to my dish of ice cream. “What is that stuff on the top of your bowl of ice cream, under all the chocolate syrup?”


“Crushed up pretzels,” I smiled. She frowned.

“What is wrong with this picture? An overweight man is watching a program about overweight people struggling to lose weight, sitting there shoveling some ten thousand calories of ice cream mush into his mouth. Do you find that unusual, Ned?”

“Not at all,” I replied. “The program is very stressful and you know that when I get stressed, I need comfort food.” Sounded pretty reasonable to me.

“What were in the dishes you have piled up on the side table under the crosswords puzzles and the Louie L’amour book?” She moved in closer. Not good.

“Oh, those,” I shot back. “They were for the cheese and crackers and the cookies…and stuff.”

“When did you eat those?” She was blocking the TV again.

Things were not going well. Her hands went to her hips. I should have put those dishes away when I got the ice cream.

“Do you want to watch House Hunters,” I asked as I reached for the clicker.

She sighed deeply and held out her hand. I leaned out and surrendered the clicker. Another crisis averted.

My Castle was still intact and peace would reign throughout the kingdom..... for now. Long Live the King.