If It Ain't Broke...

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!

Mind Your Mouth

Instead of reaching for my usual bottle of Boost yesterday at lunch, I opted to dash across the street from my office building to "Sounds like Tubway" for a wrap.

I was greeted by the usual "Sounds like Tubway" guy who is always in one of only two possible moods: mysteriously brooding, or fun and flirty. As soon as I saw him, I knew which mood it was going to be. He wearing a black button shirt (which I'm sure is not part of the standard-issue Tubway uniform); the collar was popped, and there was major Saturday Night Fever decolletage happening. Wait, is that a GOLD CHAIN?

I couldn't look, and I couldn't turn away. Just. Order. Something.

So, I ordered my usual chicken bacon ranch wrap. Cheese, yup (shredded). Veggies, yup (lettuce, onion, tomatoes, green pepper, pickles). When "Sounds Like Tubway" guy is in a brooding mood, he puts on a little bit of veggies, despite pleas for "more more more". When "Sounds Like Tubway" guy is in a fun and flirty mood, he puts on lots AND LOTS of veggies. Enough that if you were eating a sandwich as your only meal that day before a weekend of love-making it would be enough to sustain you. We're talking VEGGIES.

Bit of pepper. Almost done, minimal talking to avoid mentioning something about the chestfest happening at eye level.

And then...the sauce.

When "Sounds Like Tubway" guy is in a brooding mood, he puts on lots of sauce, despite pleas for "just a little bit." When "Sounds like Tubway" guy is in a fun and flirty mood, he puts on lots AND LOTS of sauce, despite pleas for "just a little bit".

Me: "Woa, guy. You're squirting that sauce all over the place. I like it saucy but not THAT much."
OMG did I just SAY that?
Tubway Guy: [smiles]
Ok, be cool. Pretend you did not just say that.

He rolls up my wrap. It's so full of veggies, it barely closes.

Me: "That's so big, how am I going to fit it all in my mouth?"
OMG did I just SAY that?
Tubway Guy: [winks]

I pay for my wrap and dash back across the street. How will I fit it in my mouth indeed, what with my foot in there and all.