A home gym for me, a mancave for him
Glenwood Springs, CO Colorado
“I have my own sports bar!” Husband-Head cried out with glee as he gazed around his mancave.
He did his funny little clap with both palms facing the opposite direction.
“It all starts this weekend!” he continued with sheer joy. “Football season has now officially begun! It’s time for the easy chair and beer can curls!”
He then did a little jig, while the dogs – not quite sure exactly what was so exciting – joined in by barking and furiously wagging their tails.
I looked at the whole scene in awe. Not so much because football had started – I’ve kind of gotten used to that over the years – but what had morphed from a dingy old garage to the ultimate mancave where Husband-Head would be spending the next six months.
On one side of the room, there was a large screen high definition TV. On the other side of the room, there was a large screen high definition TV. On top of that TV was another smaller TV. Who the hell knows if it’s high definition or not. And then there was a bar, a couch, an easy chair, a computer, a CD player and Sirius radio receiver, a kegerator full of Bud Light, a pizza oven and a refrigerator filled with frozen pizzas and various libations.
Not to mention the thousand-plus beer can collection adorning the walls.
“This is ridiculous,” I said, shaking my head as I looked around. “Nobody needs all this stuff to watch a stupid football game.”
Husband-Head looked shocked.
“They most certainly do,” he vehemently disagreed. “Football is very important and should be treated with the utmost respect.”
“THREE TV’s in one room?” I questioned. “For the love of Pete, you only have two eyeballs!”
“I can watch different games on each of the sets,” Husband-Head justified. “That way I don’t miss anything.”
Not only did he have all this stuff, but he had decided to change our satellite company to one where he could have NFL Ticket, which would allow him to get every football game being played.
Every game. In this country. Known to man.
The satellite dude was scheduled to come around noon to install five new receivers for our TVs. The job was expected to take several hours.
The satellite dude was still here at 8 p.m.
By that time, we still hadn’t had dinner and I was drinking wine on an empty stomach.
“Look! There’s football everywhere you turn!” Husband-Head whispered in my ear as he looked around his mancave and clapped. “I love this!”
“I hope you know this is your birthday present … and your Christmas present,” I warned him. “For the next five years …”
As I thought about it, it occurred to me that if he gets to have all this fun for football, surely I should get something as well.
“I want a home gym down in the basement. It’s only fair that if you get something, I get something,” I announced to Husband-Head the next morning. “By the way … has the satellite dude even gone home yet?”
Husband-Head graciously agreed I could have a home gym, and we went to a local sporting goods store that weekend.
“This is exactly what I want!” I exclaimed when I saw the “deluxe” abdominal crunch board. “What does it do?”
I could tell Husband-Head was embarrassed in front of the sales guy.
“Why don’t you try it out?” the salesman suggested. “Let’s see if this will work for you.”
I hopped on, hooked my feet over the bar and did .. .ummm… three sit-ups before I had to quit.
“And now … for a more extensive workout, we can lower the incline on the bench and you can work your upper abs,” the nice sales guy said.
Hesitantly, I got in the new position in which my head was now lower than my back and attempted to raise myself up.
“HELP!” I hissed through clenched teeth to Husband-Head. “This really hurts, and I cannot get up from this position.”
I was totally stuck and, trying not to laugh, both Husband-Head and the sales guy helped me up, much to my embarrassment.
Nevertheless, we bought the damn equipment and Husband-Head put it up when we got home.
“OK, there’s your little gym,” he said when he was done. “Now, I’m going out to watch the official start of the NFL games. Oh, and if you decide to work out – which I’m sure you won’t – take your cell phone with you in case you get stuck again.”
Heidi Rice is a staff reporter for the Post Independent. Her column runs every Friday. Her book collection of columns, “Skully Says Shut It!” is available for purchase at http://www.amazon.com, http://www.barnesandnoble.com or http://www.heidirice.com. Or blog with her and Husband-Head at http://www.heidirice.wordpress.com.
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