Because he can’t stand it when I’m right.

 

He really can’t.

Remember when I blogged about the husband’s new toy not fitting in our old barn/shed?

It looked something like this:

 

funny-cats-if-it-fits-i-sits-coverimage

 

I was right…

And apparently that didn’t sit well with the other half so he did a little remodeling.

 

IMG_4772

 

This is our old shed/barn that needs to be torn down.

 

IMG_4776

 

Years ago, it housed a horse.

Now?

 

IMG_4775

 

It’s a pile of rotted wood.

How rotted?

 

IMG_4785

 

Really rotted.

It’s an eyesore that drives me nuts every single day.

The fact that it’s still standing defies all logic.

 

IMG_4774

 

I’ve come to the conclusion that it hates me…

And refuses to die just because it can.

 

 

But back to the tractor.

The husband figured if he could straighten out a door…

 

IMG_4784

 

He could get it inside.

 

IMG_4792

 

Which he did, but not far enough inside due to that pesky center pole.

You know the one…

It holds up the rotted roof?

 

 

IMG_4794

 

Yeah.

We don’t need that.

 

 

Mission accomplished.

 

IMG_4795

 

He proved me wrong… and got the tractor in the shed.

How long there will be a roof over it is anyone’s guess.

 

44 thoughts on “Because he can’t stand it when I’m right.”

  1. One of my many talents is: Being Able To Look Into The Future.
    It is a gift, I choose not to question it.

    What I see there is a pile of rotten wood, which may or may not have been a barn. All this wood is on top of various lawn mowers and other para and phenalia.

    There is a high risk of this pile catching fire. Thus eliminating two problems; rotten old barn and junk stored within.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. My wife is often right, even when she has no earthy business understanding what it is she is opining on. I’m not saying I hate that, but it often leaves me shaking my head.

    I realized that WordPress separated me from your blog notifications. I’m going to try to reestablish that connection.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. We don’t have to understand it to be right. That’s the beauty of being a woman.
      As for the separation thing? That’s happened to a few of my friends and I have no idea why.
      WTH WordPress!

      Like

      1. I have the same thing with the Mustang. One guy does it every year. Every year I call him and say stop leaving cards on my card. The next year? Yup. Another card.

        Liked by 1 person

  3. I love your hubs attempts at proving you wrong and his defiance in trying, lol. I have to say, that old barn/shed looks like I might keel over at any minute. Maybe he’ll be really angry when it does, like right on his new toy. 😉

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Every winter I say it’s going to collapse under the weight of the snow…. and every spring the damned thing is still there.
      When it does collapse on his new toy? It’s going to be hard not to smirk.

      Liked by 1 person

    1. Not really… Wednesday night is the weekly Happy Hour with work colleagues. World problems get solved there don’t you know.
      As for more stuff, kindly keep those thoughts to yourself!

      Like

  4. I blame myself for that one. 😦
    After all, I did suggest that the door be “redesigned.” Sadly, I wasn’t prepared for all the “rot”; you showed here. …And pulling out the center support? That was a bad idea.

    Liked by 2 people

  5. It is going to last as long as he lasts and hubby ain’t going nowhere cause he likes the look on your face every time you look at the shed!!! (He is laughing hysterically–on the inside–wouldn’t dare laugh out loud!)

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Okay, dammit! River, just go out and get him a new shed! Something you like. Tell him it’s an early birthday, Christmas and whatever other holiday gift rolled up into one. Be sure to store some of your gardening gear in there, too! Mona

    Liked by 1 person

    1. They don’t sell them as big as he’d need. Oh no, he wants to start from scratch and build another one. Mind you, the monster barn started out as a replacement shed for this one….

      Like

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