I believe that men and women are different. That each gender has a special, God-ordained role that allows us to shield our weaknesses and maximize our strengths.

There's one area in particular that I -- quite inflexibly -- consider a domain for The Man of The House. If, by some chance, the Women's Liberation ever attempts to "equalize" this activity, I'll be on the Washington Mall with a protest poster faster than Al Sharpton after a traffic stop.

What could this dark abyss of gender inequity possibly be, you ask?

Killing household pests.

In our house, this is and ever more shalt be The Man's Job.

I consider myself a capable, level-headed and resourceful housewife. I can install curtain rods, unclog a toilet, change lightbulbs, move furniture and repair a vacuum cleaner. But I do not kill vermin.

If I were attacked by a chainsaw-wielding cockroach and was in fear for my life or the life of my child, I suppose I might resort to self-defense. But, short of that, I leave all vermin-killing assignments in the capable hands of my knight in shining bug spray: my darling hubby, Scott. Case in point:

Yesterday, as I got Griffin up from his nap, I heard a tiny squeaking that I mistakenly thought came from a loose board in our floor. Upon further inspection, I discovered an univited guest of the Mickey & Minnie variety stuck to one of the glue boards that Darryl (yes, we're on a first-name basis with our exterminator) put out after our Brown Recluse invasion last year.

I am not normally one to shy away from animals, as long as they're furry, but stumbling across a mouse in my own home was just too much for me to stave off the willies. Eeeeeeeek!

The little guy was good-n-stuck to the glue board and absolutely terrified. He writhed and squeaked almost as much as I did. I wanted this interloper evicted -- and quick -- but couldn't bear to kill him. What's a girl to do?

So I called in the reinforcements. Hooray for my wonderful husband! He cut his workday 30 minutes short and was home in a flash.

Yet even a pillar of strength has a soft side. Scott couldn't kill the mouse either but somehow managed to pull him off the glue board and set him free (running toward the neighbor's house . . . Sorry about that).

So you see, even our intrepid hero is a man of mercy. Except, of course, to the thievin' squirrels in our backyard. But that is another story . . .