The Days Of Whine And Bruises

When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one person to dissolve the fatherly bonds which have connected them with his daughter, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature’s God entitle him, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that he should declare the causes which impel him to the separation. So there!!

If You Want To Hear Me Read This Press Play If Not Read On

This almost quote is taken from the US’s Declaration of Independence, and was written far better than anything I could have done. If you live in Great Britain, don’t worry. It’s not history repeating itself. You’ve got enough trouble with that virus mutation and everything. This is about me. I am declaring my independence from my daughter, because I am oppressed.

Fathers of teenage girls will understand this better than most. Actually, I’m wondering if I’m not the first one to declare such independence. Agreed, it is extreme, but as was the case in 1776, this is the only way to free myself from her unjust tyranny. I probably won’t be sending this right away or even signing it, because frankly I’m still scared, but this is the first step in a much larger bit of history. I mean, I haven’t even made a flag or anything.

As to the reasons of why I’m taking this bold move, I can only say, “Isn’t it obvious??” Fathers and Daughters have been at war since the beginning of time. I sure Ptolemy XII Auletes said to Cleopatra, “Stick close to home. Those Romans are trouble”. But did she listen? NO!! And look what happened. Them crafty Romans took over Egypt and immediately closed down all the mummy factories, throwing the whole country into a recession and they wind up with nothing but sand and tourists.

What about Jacques d’Arc? He was a successful farmer living with his wife, three sons, and a daughter. The boys were rowdy, yes, but not one of them got themselves burned at the stake. Only Joan d’Arc, the daughter, was able to cause enough trouble to earn that distinction.

I could go on, but why do any more research once my point has been proven, more would just cloud the issue with a lot of unwanted facts? I mean, who wants facts mucking things up when a point has already been made and randomly substantiated? Certainly not me.

So, the issue on the table is declaring independence from my little princess. Before you take such drastic action, you might want to know what happened to send me down this road. True, you might not, but it’s a good story, so stick around and make all decisions afterword. Okay? Great!

It all started when my daughter found an old, full-length mirror in the garage. It was there when we moved in and I forgot about it. Asking if she could have it, she promised to clean it up. All I had to do was dig it out from behind, a pantry shelf, a tool rack, several empty Amazon boxes, and two saw-horses with my son’s project on it. I agreed and said I would move the stuff later. Thirty seconds past when she came back and notified me that it was indeed later. Realizing it was going to happen now or I would get no rest I got up and went out.

With great effort I moved most of the stuff as she supervised and informed me, I was doing it wrong. Then came the pantry shelf. It was sitting on the blanket covering the mirror. I lifted and asked if she could pull the blanket out. She answered there might be icky stuff back there. So, I lifted again kicked the blanket away and dropped the shelf on my foot. As my son drove me to the hospital, he looked at the bloody mess and named it the Boss Toe Massacre. He thought it was funny. I regretted ever letting him learn American History. A painful pun is worse when you’re in pain.

Four hours later, I returned home with five stitches, a metal splint and an air cast. My wife made a special dinner and served it in my recliner. My second son had put the garage back together, and my daughter showed me the clean mirror and asked if I could mount it before nightfall.

A few days later I was able to get into her room and hang the mirror. I was happy I did a good job and only had one bleeding finger. She looked at it with a frown. Apparently, the mirror lit up the room so much that it made the color of the walls look dull. She wanted to repaint it. I immediately said, “No”, but she went to her mother and together they convinced me to repaint the room, saying it hadn’t been done in several years. Agreeing and wanted to get a similar color that would cover easily. Nope not good enough. The girls made it a shopping trip to go pick a color. They had lunch and everything. Was I invited? Nope! That’s called Vexation Without Representation, and it’s not fair.

Yes, I painted the room and it looked pretty good. I was even persuaded to paint the baseboards and trim a contrasting color. If it would have been done there It might have been okay, but this is my daughter we’re talking about.

While I was painting, a conspiracy was afoot. The ladies in my life had found two wallpaper boarders, one for the celling, and one as a chair-rail. Little did I know that I was to put these up as well. Then I was to repaint under the chair-rail with another color. Why? Because that’s what you do. Correction, that’s what girls do. Guys just paint one color and are glad there are no spots on the celling. When I heard about this, I got mad. I took my daughters almost full cup of tea and had my own little Boston Tea Party and dumped it down the sink. Sadly, as with the American Revolution, the royalty got mad and got even.

Let’s have a recap I have now hung a mirror, painted the room, hung two borders, repainted the lower half of the room, and redid the baseboards all with an injured foot. I was sure there was nothing else she could do to me. I was wrong.  She looked online, and found a stencil. The stencil was three feet tall and in four parts. I had to go to a special printer and pay money to print the free stencil out. Next you cut the stencil out of the paper and then paint it on the wall. Have you any idea how much work this is. When I finished, it looked terrible and I had to get a fine brush to get the details right.

When It was done, I relaxed, until I was reminded, I had to move the furniture back in. You guessed it, I cracked my elbow on the dresser, and back to the ER. Does anybody want to buy a daughter cheap!  Just take over the payments.

Thank you for laughing and Please read a little longer

Thank you all for laughing with me, but I need to be serious. Alpha-1 Antitrypsin Deficiency is a genetic disease which rots the liver and lungs. There is no cure. The only help for people is to have a weekly infusion of proteins to stop the spread. For the next few months I will be taking all my proceeds and donating them to the Alpha-1 Foundation who are searching for a cure to this horrible malady. You can give here or for more information go to Thanks for supporting world laughter, and finding a cure. Laugh On



15 thoughts on “The Days Of Whine And Bruises

  1. I empathize with your plight, Mr. Ohh. It reminds me of the Battle of Bunker Hill, which was really about interior decorating. The British wanted to hang blinds while the Colonists thought curtains would mute the natural light. It was at this battle that William Prescott let out the famous rallying cry, “Don’t hang drapes until you see the whites of their eyes!” Thanks for posting!

    Liked by 2 people

  2. So many fun comments above, as I read your words, all I saw was how much love you have your little girl. 🙂 It will get better, my sisters daughter and her father never agreed on anything when she was in her teens, but now she is in her 30’s and they have the best times.

    Liked by 1 person

      1. Oh, I forgot to tell you. My niece is actually 35 years old. And she is remodeling her bathroom. Well, her dad is remodeling her bathroom. They sent me a photo of him tearing a wall down. So you have plenty of years to keep helping her yet.😉

        Liked by 1 person

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