More Than Just The Bacon

Husband can climb mountains and ski backwards.  He can play any song by ear.  He once hot wired our Jeep's battery to it's own cooling fan so we could continue on our camping  trip without having to stop for 'useless spare parts' like a radiator or engine block.


It is all of this which helps me overlook the fact that he is emotionally and physically incapable of driving past a pile of leftover yard-sale debris without backing the Volvo up and shoveling it all into the trunk.  He is no more capable of ignoring the lure of leftover clutter than Homer was of ignoring the sirens. With usually close to the same results if you think of  a broken lawn chair as the naked water nymph/ghastly harpy thing and the garage as the site of the horrible shipwreck. 


So it galls me a little to admit that there are few things which Husband cannot find a use for.  Reams of fabric left over from the 1970's pantsuit craze become camera suits and free fly pants.  Scrap metal becomes a new box frame for the sound board. A router stays a router but Husband, who has never done any cabinetry in his life, assures me that it is in great condition and 'probably even still works.' Even the lawn chair got a quick repair and is now the most coveted seat around the campfire.  


There have been some misses.  My heart just broke when Husband's dreams of building his own kayak out of salvaged door skins were crushed when he realized he had no idea how to build a kayak.  The work benches he brought home collapsed the first time he tried to use them.  Skis have split.  Sewing machines have catastrophically failed.  The tow-behind trailer for children he scored last summer in the hopes that JD would be able to ride along on longer bike rides still sits unused in the garage.  It remains proof that dogs can laugh AND swear at at the same time.


Occasionally I am lucky enough to spot these piles of detritus just ahead of Husband and I'll have the time to hide some of the less ideal items behind bushes.  This is why we are not the proud owners of a matching set of bowling balls (we don't bowl) or golf clubs (we don't golf).  We also don't now own a giant box of Dremel bits ('Dremel tool not included') or, in my most spectacular feat of spousal duplicity, a unicycle.


I sort of regret that last one.


But only a little.