“Spam-in-a-Can” by Sandie Lee

This story appears in the anthology “Not Your Mother’s Book…On Being a Woman.”

It’s no big secret that men and women are two totally different creatures. Women think differently, feel differently and act differently—and for the most part, as Martha says—it’s a good thing. However, there comes a time in every woman’s relationship that she wishes her man was a little less . . . man-ish.

As a woman, I can tell you from experience that Mother Nature is not a female. There’s no way a woman would put another woman through premenstrual syndrome, menstruation or even menopause, for that matter. Of course, the hormone changes cat hidingto a man are unbelievable—if you can’t walk it off or rub some dirt in it, it must not exist. So when my hormones start raging, tears are flowing and even the cat is hiding, Hubby still doesn’t get a clue.

I was having one of those particularly bad mornings, having been up most of the night with sweating, nausea and dizziness. Needless to say, I was extremely tired and irritable. Hubby took one look at me and said, “You look like crap.”

“Thank you.” Bite me, I fumed to myself.

“You’re white as a ghost, your hair’s all flat . . . is it greasy? And your face is REALLY wrinkly. Are those crow’s feet starting?”

“Uh huh.” Who asked you?

“Maybe you should . . . .”

“Maybe you should shut up before this crow takes her foot and kicks you in your bird’s nest!” I snapped at him. I then grabbed my favorite blanket and curled up on the sofa to pout. Hubby tiptoed past me and fled to the shower to get ready for work.

It wasn’t too long after that I heard a knock at the door. Who could that be? I peeked out the window. CRAP! There in my driveway sat a delivery truck, idling. It figures that package would come NOW!

I quickly went through my options:

A) Pretend I’m not home,

B) Get Hubby out of the shower to answer the door, or

C) Suck it up. How bad can I look?

Not wanting to make a trip to the post office to pick up the package, and my earlier threat to Hubby’s . . . err . . . nether-regions would not bring him eagerly to my rescue, I quickly tried to fluff my hair and straighten out my old, ripped sweat shirt by tugging it over my old, stained, pajama bottoms. Please let it be the old fat guy . . . please . . . please . . . .

I looked through the peep-hole. CRAAAAP!

It was the young spiffy driver with the cool shades.

After a quick mental pep talk—OK, I can do this. Really. Hubby exaggerates. I look fine—I opened the door. The driver was gazing at his sheet and said, “Delivery for Sandie.” He then looked up and . . .


He immediately composed himself and shot me one of his killer smiles. I grabbed the package, scribbled something close to a signature and slammed the door.

“Who was that?” Hubby asked.

Sure! Now you’re here! “It was a delivery.”

Hubby put his head down, sniggered and asked, “And you let him see you looking like THAT?”

I shot what I hoped was the killer of all stink-eyes to Hubby, tossed the package on the table and proceeded back to my safe-sofa haven. I could hear my life-mate still giggling and tried my best to ignore him. Of course, he couldn’t let it go.

“You know what he’s probably doing right now?”


“The delivery guy.”



“Ah . . . making deliveries?”

“No. He’s on the radio to the other drivers.”


Hubby gave me a sly look and said in his best over-the-radio voice, “We have a Spam-in-a-Can on Queen Street. I repeat: Spam-in-a-Can.” He giggled at his own wittiness and left for work.

However, there is one distinct difference between men and women—we get even. So with a sly grin of my own, I rummaged through my kitchen pantry until I located my revenge. I then placed my find on a plate, added a spring of parsley and scrawled a note saying for him to find when he got home from work:

“I’ve gone out for dinner. Enjoy your Spam-in-a-Can.”

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Sandie Lee has been writing for 20 years. She has been published online and in print in both children’s  and women’s genres. She currently lives in Ontario, Canada, with her hubby of 19 years and two feline fur-babies.

Again, this story appears in “Not Your Mother’s Book…On Being a Woman.” The book features 62 stories only women can truly appreciate! Purchase this book today from your favorite retailer, Amazon (http://amzn.to/1o9yZtl) or Barnes & Noble (http://bit.ly/1Ctd6eK).

To submit your stories for consideration in future NYMB titles, go to http://www.PublishingSyndicate.com and click on the “Not Your Mother’s Book” tab.