There’s two things that strikes fear in the heart of the wife.

“Look what I bought”

“I’m going to saw some wood”

The first she has sort of learned to live with.

The second gets her all riled up.
The lady doesn’t like sawdust.

That’s strange because she doesn’t mind regular dust.

One cannot saw wood without making sawdust.

They go together.
Sawdust is man-glitter and it makes the garage smell manly-good.

It’s one of those laws of the Universe that keeps us scientists busy.

Men make sawdust.
It’s in our DNA.

Specifically, her complaint is I don’t clean it up.

That’s not true of course.
One can not clean up all the sawdust.

Another law of the Universe is you can never make the sawdust go away.

When sawdust was invented, they designed it so it would disappear into nooks and crannies until you left the area.

Then it would multiply.

Something like rabbits.

In Japan they ferment sawdust and then lie in it waiting for something to happen.
I have no idea what.

Maybe make more sawdust.
Here’s one for the ladies.
I think this is ramen, not sawdust.

That’s okay.
I’m sure the ladies don’t care.

Anyway, when the wife goes into the garage later there’s a little bit of sawdust.

It’s not my fault.
She doesn’t understand.

It may be a plot to stop me from buying more tools that make noise and threaten to cut my fingers off.

Later she asks me to make a planter stand for the back yard.

That would involve making sawdust.

It goes around in circles and I get grumpy.