Hus.band (h
z 
b
nd)
n.
1. A man joined to a woman in marriage; a male spouse.
2. Chiefly British. A manager or steward, as of a household.
tr.v.
To use sparingly or economically; conserve: husband one’s energy.
It had been over 20 years since I’d last made a bed.
To some people (mostly women) that will sound shocking. Others (mostly men) will either shrug or announce an even longer hiatus.
At one point in my late bachelor career, I had a cleaning service come by every other week. Before their first visit, it had probably been a year since I’d vacuumed or swept.
Dishes I wash. Myself I wash. But that was it.
During our pre-marital counseling, my slovenliness was an issue. The counselors sided with my wife, my then-fiance. I won’t say here what my own stated position was to all of them. That would be indiscreet.
When my beloved first met me I was a successful dot-com professional — of the dress-down-eat-out-and-tip-well variety. I was even a paper millionaire before the bubble burst and, like so many of us, I watched my fantasy of early retirement disappear in the blink of a stock ticker.
Then I took the soul-deadening corporate cube-jockey position so we could budget and pay bills while she finished her dissertation.
And now that we’re in the dawn of her professorial career, I’m a househusband. A househusband who hadn’t made a bed in 20 years.
So first she had to teach me how to make the bed. I kid you not.
We bought a powerful vacuum cleaner with an attachment for cat hair and I started to notice when the floor was dirty.
Last semester (we live our life on the academic calendar), my kitchen duties were regular but simple: make bachelor food for two and wash up afterwards. Baby steps.
This semester, with the help of my friend the former restaurant cook, and the guidance of The Politically Incorrect Gourmet, I am moving beyond bachelor chow and into the realm of recipes.
It turns out I love to cook.
I’ve discovered an assortment of tips, tricks, and lessons I’ll share with you. If there are any other brand new homemakers out there, I hope you find these helpful.
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It turns out that the length of my forearm, from fingertips to elbow, is the proper amount of sheet to fold down at the pillow-end of the mattress. This saves on the number of trips from one side of the bed to the other.
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Prunes and dried figs are not the same thing. Who knew?
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Sweet and tangy fruits go well with pork.
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Onions go well with meats.
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Potatoes and fresh green beans go well with everything (so far).
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Brine should be about 1/8 salt — not 1/4!
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Fruit juice makes a good addition to brine: apple juice for turkey or chicken; prune juice for pork.
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The simplest baste/sauce I’ve yet encountered: equal parts pure maple syrup and chili powder. Not as sweet as it sounds.
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Serving almost anything on a bed of raw baby spinach is a good idea.
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A half tomato on top of a chicken breast will baste the meat while it roasts.
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But use a baster anyway. A baster — looks like a giant eye-dropper — is one of the many kitchen gadgets I’ve seen all my life but had never used.
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An absolute must — another gizmo I’d never actually used or understood until recently — is a meat thermometer. Neither timing nor outer color is a reliable way to judge when dinner is done, at least not for me. The missus recommends cutting into the meat to check its inner color, but I’m becoming a stickler for presentation and a small hole is less noticeable than a long gash.
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Cook beef stew the night before you plan to serve it.
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Here’s one I never would have known if not for the Brad Edmonds book, There’s a Government in Your Soup: don’t thicken stews with starch; use beef stock instead. Not beef broth — beef stock. Beef stock is made from the animal’s bones — the same stuff that makes Jello wiggle. -
And for some important facts and considerations on laundry and washing in general, see Jeff Tucker’s article, The Turn of the Screw.
An old friend of my wife’s, an English professor on sabbatical, finds herself in the domestic role for the first time as well. We have become homemaker pen pals, trading recipes and advice. I wrote her, "I’m catching myself having some stereotypical housewife moments, like feeling impatient when I’ve set out a special dinner and she won’t come to the table yet (‘But I worked on this all day and now it’s going to get cold!’ — thought, not said) or finding myself wanting acknowledgment for the care I took in packing a lunch. I pick up clothes left lying about and dirty breakfast dishes left out in her rush to leave for work and I have to stop and remind myself that this is my job now: to keep her from having to worry about such things…"
To which my pen pal replied, "Yes, yes, and yes: I have never placed so much of my sense of self in the laundry I do, the sinks I clean. He is appreciative, but after he has had a bad day, I sometimes find my mind drifting to thoughts like, How can he be upset when I have cooked and cleaned and all is in order?"
It’s helpful to commiserate.
I used to schedule my dishwashing so that I could listen to National Public Radio programs at the sink. But I’ve discovered an inverse correlation between my economic literacy and my ability to tolerate NPR, so I needed to find a new distraction.
The Mises Institute came to the rescue with its huge library of lectures on MP3. They have a great new series of short courses, but I’ll recommend starting with Rothbard, as I did.
Our upstairs neighbor — a retired professor, no less — would pound on his floor/our ceiling whenever I’d play any of these lectures loud enough to accompany mid-afternoon housework. This is how I discovered that the Apple iPod is a househusband’s best friend. I carry the entire Mises.org audio library — hundreds of hours — on a device that slips in my shirt pocket! Music works sometimes, and I’m sure many would prefer it, but nothing distracts me from chores like listening to a good talk. (The audiobook version of Henry Hazlitt’s Economics In One Lesson is a close second.)
A few product recommendations. (Do you think I could get free stuff from endorsing these products? Does anyone at Apple.com read LRC?)
Three very helpful purchases from Bed Bath & Beyond:
1. Sponge holders that stick to the inside wall of the sink with a suction cup, letting the sponge dry out rather than breeding germs.
2. Foam rubber drawer- and cabinet-liners can be used under rugs to keep them from slipping around on hardwood floors.
3. Dirt Devil makes powerful vacuum cleaners. A powerful vacuum cleaner can do wonderful things for my mood. A mediocre vacuum cleaner can lead to the sort of moods that will later have me snapping at loved ones. (Here’s another important lesson: turn down the volume on your iPod before you turn off the vacuum cleaner. Your ears will thank me.)
Hus.band.ry (h
z
b
n-dr
)
n.
Careful management or conservation of resources; economy.
My favorite cleaning products:
3. Clorox ToiletWand — "No more dirty brush!"
They store easily, work extremely well, and I take satisfaction in throwing away the dirty end afterward.
I sent these recommendations to my new pen pal. She wrote, "Thanks for the tips. I am a swiffomatic! That is my most favorite task while talking on the phone. But do you worry, as I do, about the number of household products that are designed around disposability?"
This is the dark side of keeping house: the worry and the guilt. I see it as part of what Ludwig von Mises called The Anti-Capitalistic Mentality, what Thomas DiLorenzo calls the Anti-Industry Industry. We are bombarded with messages that our consumer preferences are bad, dangerous, damaging — messages that the market economy will destroy the Earth if it doesn’t destroy us first.
But I won’t try to address all that here. Look for a future article called "Why the Househusband Stopped Recycling." All I will say right now is: No, I don’t worry about the disposable society. I revel in it. It’s one of the best parts of trading places with my wife.
Which brings me to my final thought for the moment: on women in the workplace.
After Lew Rockwell published Straw Men & Ham Sandwiches, in which I defend free-market capitalism and try to distinguish it from the political variety, I was anticipating email attacks from the Left. I was surprised to hear instead from the fascisti — right-wing national socialists — one of whom angrily charges capitalism with giving women independent means. He sees this as a plot on the part of "radical feminists and lesbians" — though I find myself wondering which feminists my correspondent wouldn’t find radical. I’m sure he doesn’t like Wendy McElroy‘s politics any more than he likes mine. He’s certainly right that capitalism makes more non-traditional arrangements economically viable, which he sees as its crime, and I of course see as one of its many virtues.
Now I’m not talking about affirmative action, targeted hiring, gender quotas, sexual harassment legislation, anti-discrimination laws, or any other coercive micro-management by the State — just voluntary contract between two parties, at least one of whom is female.
I’m all for it.
Someone has to pay the bills.
September 14, 2004
