I’d never even heard of a she shed until that State Farm commercial ramped up on TV a couple of months back, and was repeated, echoed, reiterated, replayed, etc., ad nauseam.

Novel at first, partly because of its extensive use of alliteration, a grammatical device I am fond of (and use too much, if you listen to my boss, which I don’t).

You probably know the one, in which a backyard shed is ablaze and a woman is checking with her insurance agent to see whether her “she shed” is covered.

In case you haven’t seen the commercial — in which case you’re either dead or living in a cave — following are excerpts of the scripted lines involving the wife and husband, Cheryl and Victor, who are watching a small shed in their backyard go up in flames as Cheryl summons insurance agent Zachary on the phone:

Cheryl: Well, it finally happened, Zachary. Somebody burned down my she shed.

Victor: Nobody burned down your she shed, Cheryl.

Cheryl: Well, my she shed’s on fire.

Victor: Your she shed was struck by lightning.

(Pause)

Cheryl: Zachary, is my she shed covered by State Farm?

Zachary: Your she shed’s covered, Cheryl.

Cheryl: You hear that, Victor? I’m getting a new chichier she shed.

A flaming chandelier falls from the ceiling of the burning she shed and falls onto a table with flowers. Feminine furniture is ablaze in the she shed. Image switches to Victor looking at Cheryl.

Victor: Chichier?

Cheryl: Mm-hmm.

Victor, holding a small garden hose, looks at the she shed, with a resigned expression and without enthusiasm.

As rescue sirens wail, Victor says: That’s wonderful news.

(Of course, the subliminal message is that Victor is a villain who viciously, and with vindictiveness aforethought, set a spark to Cheryl’s she shed because he spites Cheryl’s shop.)

And there you have it, she sheds surely are simply styles that will get short shrift, although they weren’t on my radar until the commercial started polluting the airwaves.

Then Alina, a woman I used to work with in Florida, started posting Facebook updates of the she shed she and her husband, Bubba, are building in back of their house in the Big Easy.

Shed my stern — it is cavernous, with Alina’s alibi about being that she and Bubba are bursting with boxes of tools they must protect from pilferage and plundering patterns of weather.

All of a sudden, I seemed swamped in solicitations for she sheds, reaching a summit when Kate sent me a she shed she seeks. Hell, I didn’t even know she wanted a she shed, and all of a sudden, I get a Facemessage with a photo of something actually billed as a small cabin. Originally priced at $7,500, it now carries a price tag of $5,000.

When I countered that it doesn’t even have a bathroom, she blasted back that it could be a backyard bungalow, so she could just go in the house. I’m sure she was just joking, and I can’t justify 5 grand, so erased it from my memory.

Then, during a trip to Prairie du Chien the other day, between the rainstorms that resulted in on-and-off blockages of Hwy. 35, I spied a secondhand hunting shed for sale along the highway and suggested that to her.

She ignored me, which is just as well, because I don’t hunt — and I think I’ve made myself clear that she certainly doesn’t need a she shed.

You probably think I’m being just a miserly, misogynistic male because I do have a man cave of sorts, where Kate’s constraints don’t confine me (much). But she’s got the whole rest of the house, right (well, except for my he shed in the garage)?

She sheds, schmee sheds — spouses shouldn’t seek such stuff. That’s my story, and my schtick, and I’m sticking to the story, and the schtick. Hmmmmm, maybe a pilot for a TV series, called “She Shed Tale”?

On the other hand

One thing I’ll say about the she shed scene: The alliterations brought back memories of a Listerine commercial from back in the day.

That jingle said, in part:

“He said that she said that he had halitosis.

“She said that he said it’s true of some girls, too.

“He said that she said the answer is simple …”

Of course, Listerine was the answer.

For the longest time, I misheard the lyrics, thinking that the second line was meant to define halitosis for people.

In that iteration, it was:

“He said that she said that he had halitosis.

“She said that he said she had bad breath, too.”

Face it, as long as we have women around — and I’m not suggesting otherwise — we’ll have he-said, she-said scenarios.

And, probably, they’ll get the last word — even if it’s their last breath, bad or good.

Mike Tighe can be reached at mtighe@lacrossetribune<mailto:mtighe@lacrossetribune>, or follow him on Twitter at @necktye.

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Mike Tighe can be reached at mtighe@lacrossetribune<mailto:mtighe@lacrossetribune>, or follow him on Twitter at @necktye.

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