A matter of taste

Dear Zen Mother,

My husband and I are in the middle of painting and redecorating our house in hopes of selling it soon. What I'd like to know is, why do men's ideas of redecorating vary so greatly from women's?

Gloria from New York

Dear Gloria,

Before you spackle your husband into the wall, know that you raise an age-old struggle between husband and wife.

Henry Vlll beheaded Ann Boleyn not for lack of a male heir but because she dared called him 'swine!' when he ordered tapestries of Dogs Playing Poker for the royal rec room.

And shortly thereafter the secret Brethren of the Lazy Boy was established to help rid women from decorating decisions once and for all. One of its tenets being “No decorative pillows nor hand towels with appliqué butterflies shall dwell in manly abodes”– the existence of this organization today, however, is highly controversial.

Some wives have experienced a supernatural phenomenon whereby upon leaving a room with well-placed chairs and sofas arranged for conversation they return to find all the seats moved to within eight inches of the television.

But the roots of gross style discrepancies between husband and wife go back to the time of cave dwellings. Contrary to popular opinion, Neanderthal man did not club his wife over the head and drag her into the bedroom for uninterrupted prehistoric pleasure. No no, my friend. It was the ever-resourceful Neanderthal bride who brought a club along with her trousseau begging to be knocked out at the threshold so as not to see the paintings of last week’s kill on the living room walls.

In modern times, sensible women forgo the clubbing endured by our female ancestors to pursue a less painful solution. It’s called “I’m right and you’re wrong.” While this philosophy is applied to many situations during the course of a marriage, it is particularly useful in decorating, say, when your husband wants to know why a mini fridge for the bathroom is not a good idea or why hanging his (last place) bowling team picture (from five years ago) above the fireplace is not going to happen. Since there is no way to rewire your husband’s decorating ‘flair,’ you simply have to say, “Because I’m right and you’re wrong…so take that fish head side table out to the garage.”

But every so often, this tried and true response to your mate fails. This is when we women of impeccable taste, maturity and class resort to what is known as Operation Over My Dead Body: “If you replace my original Picasso with a wide screen television I’ll invite my mother to move in with us.”

Compromises can be met, however. The bowling team photo can be hung above the toilet (you’ll never see it) and a wide screen television will be nice to watch all those foreign films with subtitles you and your mother plan to rent for the next six months. If nothing else, you can always borrow my club.