Although the argument still rages, it’s hard to deny that men and women differ genetically. For example, women have genes that are responsible for creating breasts, ovaries, and todo lists. Men, on the other hand have genes for snoring, scratching, and lying on the couch.

Even today, certain women’s groups argue that these differences are nonsense, although try telling your wife to stop scratching or snoring and see what happens. Nevertheless, women insist on testing the limits of genetic difference. As men, it is our responsibility to forgive them, because it is the right thing to do. Also, not forgiving them will wind up on some list.

The other night my wife challenged the difference between women and men by trying her hand at loading the dishwasher. If there were, among all the genes in the world, a single, dominant, important male gene it is loading the dishwasher. It surpasses wearing a tie and believing that women think Brylcreem makes your hair look sexy.

I come from a family that didn’t have a dishwasher for six generations, yet I can glance into one I’ve never seen before and instantly know where to put every dish, pan, and dining utensil, right down to the silver toothpicks.

“That’s a salad fork with a curved handle,” I told her.

“I know.”

“It goes over here, with the other salad forks with curved handles.”

“That’s where I put it.”

“Only after I pointed out your mistake.”

“Excuse me?”

“You were putting it in with the salad forks with the straight handles.”

(For the Record: Mistake is a word you should use sparingly, and only when you need a break from the conversation, one that can last from 30 minutes to the rest of your life.)

“What are you talking about?” she said. (My wife often takes a simple declarative sentence, such as “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” and pretends she’s speaking to Alex Trebec.) “Everything’s going to get cleaned at the same time.”

“When I empty the dishwasher,” I said, “I can scoop up all the salad forks with curved handles at once and put them in the drawer next to all the other salad forks with curved handles.”

“You put things away?”

Hopefully, like me, you inherited the I-know-when-to-keep-my-mouth-shut gene from your father and you only think “I’ll take insults for $200, Alex.”

“So,” she said, “if there’s a salad fork with a straight handle in with the ones with curved handles, that’s a major problem?”

“No, that’s a little thing.” My wife seemed surprised when I told her that little things add up, underscoring the genetic differences when it came to math skills.

“Every dishwasher is biased toward a particular organization,” I continued. “In our case, the dinner dishes on the lower shelf, right rear; the salad dishes, lower shelf, right front; the cereal bowls, lower shelf, left rear; and so forth. It is,” I said quietly, “a matter of entropy.”

If there was anything funny in that typical male description of kitchen organization please explain it to me. Every time I ask my wife she has spasms of guffawing.

“By the way,” I said casually, “How would you feel if you opened that drawer where you keep the plastic food containers and found a round container in the stack with the rectangular ones?”

“I’d feel wonderful,” she said. “It would mean you were finally challenging yourself.”

I had this grand idea of going through all the draws and cabinets in the kitchen and mixing up their contents. But, I’d have to do it some Sunday afternoon while my wife was shopping.

And that would mean getting my genes up off the couch.