Making the most of his man cave: Todd Nuttman

Did you know you can purchase your own “man cave”? I saw it myself on TV. For a few bucks you can enjoy the peace and serenity of your own manly space, complete with your own hot rod, big screen television and prized hat collection.

Did you know you can purchase your own “man cave”? I saw it myself on TV. For a few bucks you can enjoy the peace and serenity of your own manly space, complete with your own hot rod, big screen television and prized hat collection.

I am fortunate to have my own man cave just a few steps from our bedroom. My man cave is not big enough to hold a hot rod or tool chests; it is just big enough for two recliners, a mini fridge, and my prized hat collection, which stays out of sight to avoid my wife’s glare.

I love my cave. It is my sanctuary from a hard day’s work, or a hard day of doing nothing. By closing the door I invoke the Little Rascals code of “He–Man's Woman Haters Club” of which I am the local chapter president. No woman allowed. Of course this rule is flexible in case my wife wants to get some of her cosmetics, which I don’t remember letting her store in my man fridge. Or my wife getting her work clothes out of my man closet, which I don’t remember agreeing to let her use as well.

But that’s it …

Other than my wife, daughter, Buffy the cat or my lab Angel, no chicks allowed. I have to draw the line somewhere.

My cave also is my thinking space, where I usually think to write these brilliant commentaries each week. It is also my hiding place, which keeps me from my wife’s sixth sense in finding me and asking me to do certain chores while key matchups in the world of sports take place.

“Honey, can you please fold the towels”?

“Not now, Babe, Can’t you see I’m watching the finals of the NCAA lacrosse championship? It’s Duquesne vs. the University of the Pacific. When these schools get together it’s a real barn burner. I will do it at halftime.”

Forty-five minutes fly by.

“Have you folded the towels yet?”

“I am pacing myself,” I growl as I wipe the Cheese Doodle off my stomach.

As I get up to fold the towels, I smile when I look about the cave. Cheeze Doodles, empty beer cans and a half-eaten pizza decorates the place. And as I leave I consider bringing out my prized hat collection out into the open for all to admire. Maybe if I explain to the wife that if I bring my hats out of the closet it will make more room for her to buy more shoes.

See, I do think better in there.

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Don C. Brunell is a business analyst, writer and columnist. He is a former president of the Association of Washington Business, the state’s oldest and largest business organization, and lives in Vancouver. Contact
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