I've had it.
Beginning today, I'm officially kicking off a campaign to save husbands everywhere a home improvement headache.
I'm striving to keep Trading Spaces and other shows from the same ilk off the air.
It's simple: The shows send the people of America a terrible message. If you watch these shows you think you can redecorate a room for $1,000, make over an entire house in a weekend, or save money building a sofa instead of buying one.
There should be a disclaimer: This show is performed only by trained professionals. Please do not attempt to recreate anything on this show. Such activities can lead to physical disfigurement, arguments and/or attempts to maul your spouse with a power tool.
Take for example, this recent conversation with my Trading Spaces-addict wife:
She: "You know what I think?"
"Why can't I build a dining room chair like I want? They do it on Trading Spaces all the time. All I need is a power saw, nail gun and a couple of pieces of wood."
"Yeah. We'll save a ton of money that way."
"Sure. Give me a second and let me check our health insurance and your life insurance."
See what I mean? I'm still in shock from that conversation.
But it got me thinking. There's probably a whole group of misguided do-it-yourselfers out there, inspired and confused by home improvement shows.
So we need to stop them. Forget indecency over the airwaves, I'm more concerned about insanity over the airwaves. I wonder if the FCC will come down on my side of this.
After all, this is truly an assault on traditional, family values. Gone, apparently, are the days of jewelry and clothes as gifts. Now it's power tools and decorating materials. Somewhere along the way I missed that memo. Or was it a sticky-note on my computer screen? Or a lost e-mail?
You know the worst part? This whole time my wife was glued to Trading Spaces, she was actually gaining inspiration.
And I thought that sparkle in her eye was just Ty's washboard abs.
On a side note, I always get a little nostalgic around April Fools' Day. It is one of the few times in the year that I miss my college days.
You see, every March the staff of The Bell Ringer -- the student newspaper at Augusta College -- would spend a few weeks making up news. We'd pull all the fake stories together and publish The Bull Slinger, much to the chagrin of most of the school's administration.
I miss those days, but I'm glad I'm past them. I'd rather be making up news here in Thomson. Or at least putting my hometown's newspaper.