So I had ants in my pants. Ag-ay-an. Decided Johnny Dangerously should be moved from his crib to his big boy bed.
And I thought subconsciously to myself, "Well, I guess we'll just have to wait until Dad gets home from work for that."
And then it dawned on me:
"Why? Can you not carry a 30 pound crib downstairs? Can you not carry a 30 pound bed upstairs? Is your drill finger painted on?"
So I did it myself.
Little help from Mr. Drill,
and we've got Ron John all set in his lil bed.
So he can get out of bed 20 times at night to tell knock-knock jokes that make no sense,
before he finally konks out. I like to torture myself in that way.
So why bring this up, you ask?
We-he-he-hell, I'll tell you. I've heard many a comment lately on the subject matter of asking the hubby to do it, or waiting for the hubs.
Fact: If I waited for my hubby to get stuff done around here, nothing would be done.
Fact: Bears eat beets. Bears, beets, Battlestar Galactica.
(Sorry. If you don't watch Jim & Dwight you just don't get that last one.)
Now wait! Don't take that the wrong way, here. He is bizzzz-ay. Take his last Saturday off, for example. He started at 9:00 am. Finished at 6:30 pm. And he:
-cleaned out the garage.
(psssst: he got so sick of my crap everywhere he created one work space for me and put all my trim in that bucket. Aww. . . .)
-Put in a new electrical outlet for the garage door.
-Fixed the leak in the bathroom sink.
-Fixed the "bib" (I don't know what this means) for the hose. (Did you know we were supposed to unhook the hose before it freezes? NOW we know)
-Replaced most of the plumbing under the kitchen sink to stop a bad leak.
Yeeee-ah. Bizzz-ay. He doesn't have time for my wild, odd ideas. That's not to say he doesn't step in and help. 'Cause he will.
And if your hubby is like my hubby, if it's his idea, he's all for it. If it's mine, well, let's just say he might act slightly T.O.'d.
I'm not knockin' him- it's just human nature.
So what is my point? What does this have to do with anything?
You should have seen me the first time I used a nail gun. What was I afraid of? That it would come back out of the wall and hit me in the cheek? The knee?
Oh wait. That's already happened.
You should see the way I still use a miter saw. No, you shouldn't. The words "Dumb Butt" come to mind.
But I am sooo glad I'm not waiting for crap to get done.
-Does this mean I dare use a table saw? Pffft.
-Does this mean I can drill 1 screw into hardibacker in the time it takes Jeff to do 10 to 20? Yes!
-Does this mean, that in the event of an earthquake, 90% of our wall art will come crashing to the ground?
Yeee-ah! And I can say, "I did that."
Now let's go make something, ladies!