It is renovation season and we are still picking away at the polka-dot patches from last fall. We're down to the finishing touches now and so I asked Husband to help me hang a new cabinet in our recently repainted upstairs bathroom. This was against the advice of the little Jiminy Cricket in my soul who, despite my efforts to drown him with vodka, still manages a squeak now and then.
Husband, who loves me more than he loves ice cream, said a rude word and stamped into the garage for his drill.
You may recall that we have a deliriously happy marriage based on a strong foundation of trust, humour and never renovating together. Some things just cannot be done on ones' own, however, and so twenty minutes later we found ourselves jammed together in the corner of a bathroom, hot and sweaty, jostling for position on a toilet lid and trying to avoid each other's elbows. Again.
Things were not going well and, when it became clear that a drill was no longer the tool required, Husband asked me for the hammer from my tool kit. The tool kit I used to have. Now I have what's left of my tool kit after three lousy hiding places and Husband's uncanny ability find my kit every time I move it but lose everything inside the moment he touches it.
"Sorry, Honey but that hammer got left out in the rain for three weeks and when I finally picked it up the end fell off."
We exchanged a Look and Husband went off to search for a different hammer.
A little while later I was asked to produce pliers from my tool kit.
"Gee, Sweetie, I think those were the ones I found at the end of the driveway. When I tried to pick them up they turned out to be fused to the ground with rust."
Another Look was exchanged, some words were swallowed and alternate pliers were sought. Before the job was finished, Husband would ask me for screwdrivers, a measuring tape and a level, none of which were to be had and it became clear that I am, in fact, terrible at hiding my tool kit.
After another hour of measuring, drilling, leveling and re-measuring, drilling and leveling, Husband's ingenuity rose to the occasion and the cabinet is now hung safely on the wall and my rather sad tool kit is hidden away again, this time with a note inside which reads:
"This is the decoy. Keep searching."
"Sorry, Honey but that hammer got left out in the rain for three weeks and when I finally picked it up the end fell off."
We exchanged a Look and Husband went off to search for a different hammer.
A little while later I was asked to produce pliers from my tool kit.
"Gee, Sweetie, I think those were the ones I found at the end of the driveway. When I tried to pick them up they turned out to be fused to the ground with rust."
Another Look was exchanged, some words were swallowed and alternate pliers were sought. Before the job was finished, Husband would ask me for screwdrivers, a measuring tape and a level, none of which were to be had and it became clear that I am, in fact, terrible at hiding my tool kit.
After another hour of measuring, drilling, leveling and re-measuring, drilling and leveling, Husband's ingenuity rose to the occasion and the cabinet is now hung safely on the wall and my rather sad tool kit is hidden away again, this time with a note inside which reads:
"This is the decoy. Keep searching."
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