Déjà vu
Things had been going so well on this latest remodeling spree. The flooring was moving right along, Toddling Ben was helping Daddy hit stuff, and the girls were behaving wonderfully.
Then came last night.
It was like a bizarre flashback.
First, I had to move the Albatross (300 pound TV) and the stand upon which it is perched. It wasn’t a bad stand, but my wife has always had a special place in her heart for it.
“I’m going to move the TV stand, can you keep an eye on the boy?” I asked.
“I hate that stupid, ugly, cheap piece of crap stand,” she replied, then went back to talking to an ex-boyfriend on the phone.
“Yes, but you love the TV more than life itself.”
“Whatever.”
So I slid the stand across the floor. I lifted it to place it on the new laminate when….
Snap. Crackle. Pop. Crunch. “Uh oh,” I said.
“Ohmygod! Ohmygod! Don’t let the TV fall!” She screamed from the other room.
I looked down. One of the corners of the stand had broken off. The TV wobbled slightly, but seemed to be OK. “See, you do love the TV more than life….”
Snap. Crackle. Pop. Crunch. Rice Crispies from hell.
I caught the TV, and looked for my bride. She was still on the phone with her ex-boyfriend, probably talking about how she had made a bad choice some 15+ years ago. She hung up quickly and came to help rescue her beloved Albatross.
We swung the table my Dad made under it, and paused. “Do you think it will hold it?”
“I don’t know, I’ll call the builder,” I answered.
By this time the hysterical girls where milling about, fretting about the fate of their beloved 36” Toshiba. It was very loud. I took the phone outside and talked to my Dad.
He wasn’t sure, but if I was going to try it, I had better brace it.
I hung up and sighed. I leaned back against the house. My shoulder pressed against a large window.
That’s when the window shattered. I invented a few new compound expletives.
I was not hurt, and my shirt was not even ripped. I left my wife to block off the window with plastic while I Carrie-Rigged (it was her idea) the TV stand with a spare wall stud.
We moved the stand into position, reconnected the TV, and let out a huge sigh of relief.
Then she called her ex-boyfriend back.
posted by Tom @ 12:45 PM
6 comments
6 Comments:
First of all, the boy was asleep.
Second of all, my ex-boyfriend can't even work a computer, therefore I doubt he'd be airing my bitchy foibles to the world.
He is, however, an alcoholic, which was sort of a deal-breaker.
My mom, though, still gets squishy when she meets him in town, which causes no end of fun in teasing him.
You, Mister, are the one with issues, regardless of how you make ME out to be! I am a SAINT!
That's right Tom, she is a Saint. She has to be because you aren't dead yet.
I keep telling people who ask if I'm married that I don't know why it hasn't happened for me... now I see why I get asked this all the time.
I have these EXACT kinds of conversations CONSTANTLY.
I guess I am the only one denying I am already wifey material.
I just report them as I see them.
At the time, I had forgotten that the boy was asleep.
This is the exact reason I never told my wife that I blog. I feel for you, man...
If I can survive calling her Winnie the Pooh, I can live through this.
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