During my single mom years I was accustomed to doing certain things without imput, and on my own. If I wanted to rearrange the furniture, I did. Paint the walls Antiqua Sunset, no problem. Cook fish cakes, yummy. I became very multi-talented, I had to.
When you're married, you have to keep you're partner in mind unless you find the couch especially comfy. I don't get out the tool box anymore, because I know Paul likes to do the "man thing" and give the home repairs a go. Although I do miss sporting my pink tool-belt (it's bitchin').
So what's the problem you say? Oh nothing much, except the balance of my sanity.
We had some "fix it" things on our to do list: hang a shelf, install a phone, hang a picture. Jobs which should have taken 30 minutes. Altogether. Tops.
The shelf hanging went ok. Installing the phone proved to be a bit more tricky. Paul had to put a new phone plate in the room. While hooking up the wires to the plate, one of the wires somehow found its way into a cut on Paul's hand and he electrocuted himself. Several choice words later...the phone was connected. But without a dial tone. Against my better judgment, I let Paul go downstairs to the basement, and poke around the electrical panel. He disconnected and connected wires. He flicked switches. Several choice words later...the phone still did not have a dial tone, and now none of the phones in the house worked.
An hour and a half later...
All of the house phones were back in working order (including the newly installed one). We had one task left to go - hang a picture. We picked the perfect spot. Out came the drill. Out came the F-bomb. Paul had managed to drill through a water pipe inside the wall and now water was leaking down thru the dry wall. Talk about luck!
There is now a 6x6 hole in the wall where the drywall had to be cut, the hole filled, and wall patched. God love Paul. He tries, he really does. But I'm considering putting a lock on the tool box, and hiding the key. Preferably nowhere near electricity.
**During the writing of this post, Paul informed me he broke the downstairs toilet. I think I'm going to have to either hurt Paul's male pride, or we're going to need to move to a new house soon.
New house it is!
This is really funny but sad all the same. Poor Paul, he does try really hard. If I was in your shoe's I'd get him drunk and crack jokes about it. Tease him that from now on you'll be calling his bro anytime he's going to be handy or if your confident in your skills as a tool women, don't let the hubby out of sight when the power tool is in hand.
ReplyDeleteIn my defense, the toilet was not my fault and the water pipe is now better than new.
ReplyDeleteLovely, I click to see what you're up to all the time... but I find nothing :) I totally understand how crazy life gets and updating is not on the top of the list.... but I miss your writings!! :)
ReplyDeleteWhenever I think I'm having a particularly bad day, you always (unintentionaly) come to my recuse. I do feel for Paul and all the mishaps, god love him. Your blog makes me laugh with delight and smile knowing I don't have to worry about electric drills causing any havoc.
ReplyDeleteAwesome blog.. as always!!