I locked myself in my new garage for about an hour on Saturday. I pause here for a renewed sense of panic as I relive the moment. Imagine lifting a spring-less garage door open from the outside, entering the garage, then, hearing the door slam down behind you. Now imagine trying to lift said spring-less door from the inside. The door does not budge. If you were me, you would be thankful that you could call your husband, who is busy at work, and panic over the phone, because you remembered to put your cell phone in your pocket. As he later told me, tears are his kryptonite. He was home to rescue me within an hour. I was shaken up and unable to work much for a few hours. As a thank you to CPM for the rescue, I gladly killed a bunch of ants later in the day (he hates bugs). Marriage, it's all about give and take.
CPM made me pick up a pipe full of poop. The scene went something like this:
Me: (Returning to the basement after my millionth trip to the dumpster. Silently prepares to pick up some more trash to carry to dumpster.)
Him: "Take these pipes out, they are ready to go."
Me: (Struggling to lift heavy and unwieldy pipe, clutching said pipe close to my torso, "dirt" falling out of pipe onto me.)
Him: "You know, that pipe is full of poop."
Me: (Cue FREAKING OUT, HAND FLAPPING, YELLING).
Him: (Laughs hysterically)
Me: "I will never forgive you for this, ever."
Hey, the new bathroom is up and running:
Man, that just doesn't get old.
We also put in the new indoor pool:
Okay, it's not a pool. It's a hole in the basement floor. I'm killing myself with my construction humor.
My husband, he has a big tool...collection.