Tag Archives: crap

Things my husband does that make me say WTH?

 

So I went out to the garage a while ago and saw he had moved the snow blower.

And while that in itself isn’t strange…

This was.

 

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Huh?

 

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Yes, that’s a bungee cord with one end hooked to the mirror…..

 

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And the other end hooked to the blower chute.

It took me a minute to realize he did this due to the limited space on his side of the building.

How limited?

Here’s a shot of the back end.

 

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Yeah.

 

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I’d say he had backed up as far as he could.

 

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The more logical solution of throwing out all that crap treasure not withstanding.

 

 

 

I hate to admit it.

I really, really hate to admit it.

But every once in a while, the husband’s giant barn of crap treasure will yield something useful.

Case in point?

These…

That I found buried in a pile of scrap wood yesterday.

Two masks.

And not just any masks…. but the highly sought after virus blocking N 95 masks.

Treasure… in the barn!

Real treasure in these currently difficult times.

Who knew?

A little drip now and then….

 

Leaking roof saga continued.

Winter is the worst possible time in Maine for your roof to spring a leak … so of course, that’s exactly what’s happened.

Remember when I said I’d cringe every time it rains?

 

 

That’s the sound of me cringing.

It poured the other day… and so did our ceiling.

 

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So much so I had to add another pan.

Which drove the husband nuts when he came home…. and because he’s a man and had to do something?

 

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Yeah. He decided to climb up into the attic to see where it was leaking.

Naturally this isn’t as easy as climbing a set of stairs… because no.

Here at Casa River, we like a challenge.

 

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The den closet, home to an overflow of the husband’s useless crap  treasure.

(Yes, he collects old wooden hangers. Don’t you?)

 

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Half of one side had to be emptied and strewn all over the room….

 

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Because the only way to access the crawl space we call an attic is to remove all the shelving and climb up a hole at the top of the closet.

 

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A design paradigm we curse the builders for quite often.

 

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It’s a bit of a nightmare getting up there.

 

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And no, the husband didn’t appreciate me making a Kodak moment out of the experience.

 

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He wasn’t thrilled that I stuck my head up through the hole to offer advice either.

Men. There’s no pleasing you.

 

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But look… I found an antenna from the 1970’s!

 

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Did I mention there’s no actual floor up there? Just a few scattered pieces of particle board that break when you kneel on them.

 

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So after scuttling around like a crab and lying on his back…

 

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And pointing his flashlight near the section of the roof of the addition you can’t access from the crawl space, he did find where the water was coming in. Halfway up the peak, and running down the beams…. which we can find absolutely no reason for.

 

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Doesn’t this look like fun?

 

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Especially since there’s not a damned thing you can do about it until spring when you can rip off the shingles to find the bad spot.

 

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Meanwhile I’ll have this lovely and ever expanding wart to look at.

And every time I do?

I hear a cash register.

Ka-ching!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Oh, good grief.

 

Try as I might to avoid it, sometimes I have to go upstairs in our barn.

This usually forces me to emit a heavy sigh over the husband’s new acquisitions.

You know,  the ones he snuck in there without me noticing.

 

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While I was pleasantly surprised to see he’d done a little organizing (read – shoved everything to the sides) and the floor was visible this time….

 

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And also delighted to see a small section of crap had been put on a shelf.

A shelf!

 

 

(What? You don’t collect dusty old water stained cardboard boxes half full of rusty rivets and tacks…

Why ever not?)

A groan did escape me when I saw more bed frames….

 

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And old rusty pesticide sprayers…

 

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As well as whatever the hell this is in front of the vintage cabbage slicers.

 

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I’m thinking I should make him use that in the baby barn to level out the dirt floor.

You know, as penance for bringing the damn thing home in the first place.

 

 

I  wish I knew.

And if you’re thinking to yourself, geesh River, that didn’t look so bad…. let me point your eye downstairs where it looks like this:

 

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And this:

 

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And this:

 

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Enough said.

 

 

The baby nightmare continues…

 

Baby barns.

Totally not worth the trouble.

 

 

 

When last we left our intrepid deconstructor, he had finished the back side of the main building and was moving around to the side.

 

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Please note that his loyal wife and help mate was not thrilled to see a large pile of dirt growing ever larger on her lawn.

 

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Problem #1 this past weekend?  The husband had so much  junk, crap, useless rusted nonsense   treasure stored in that section, he had no room to work.

Of course, he assured me it was all wonderful stuff.

 

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I assured him it was not.

 

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What? Why? How much….

 

 

I didn’t even want to know.

 

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Yes…. that’s a filthy old door with a mail slot that weighs roughly 5,000 pounds.

No… I have no idea why he has it.

 

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But if you need 2 rusted iron frames for your wooden wagon wheels?  He’s your man.

Although on second thought, he never parts with anything… ever. So I guess you’re out of luck.

You might have noticed this jewel in the previous photo…

 

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I think it’s an ancient torture device from the early 14th century.

I know it damn near broke my back dragging it across the lawn to the big barn where it will now gather more cobwebs.

It’s days like these that I have to keep telling myself…

 

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I really do.

Because otherwise? I’d kill him…

And I don’t think they’d let me blog from prison.

 

 

 

 

 

And so it goes….

 

Work on the baby barn continues, albeit slowly.

 

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My husband’s master plan involves a serious amount of temporary screwing, refitting, removing and replacing. He’s not a huge fan of measuring… but he’s a man.

This is not surprising.

 

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Of course this means 3 times as much work.

 

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I think one planned demolition and rebuild would suffice…. but I’m a woman.

What do I know?

 

 

There’s also a good deal of shifting the husband’s  crap we don’t need now, nor will we ever need again   stuff from one place to another. Like the hurricane generator we bought in 1992 when we lived down south and haven’t used since.

 

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Or the wheel weights for the tractor we no longer own.

 

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Or the numerous tires for the cars we no longer own.

 

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Or the table that went with the chairs we no longer own….

 

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Right beside the small refrigerator I had no earthly idea we owned.

All of these things are heavy and filthy and must be moved over and over again because he can’t be convinced to throw them out.

Good times.

 

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There was hammering.

 

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And crowbar-ing …. and yes. A good deal of cursing because the structure is 45 years old and not exactly plumb.

There was also a good deal of displaced dirt.

 

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Thanks to numerous woodchuck tunnels…

 

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Which undermined our attempt to simply re-side and re-shingle the damned thing.

 

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Now we have to completely dig up the hard packed floor and smooth it all out.

 

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Doesn’t that sound like fun?

 

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I knew it was going to be a banner day.

 

When I woke up to this…

 

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A big old rainbow in our backyard.. almost a double.

 

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And if that wasn’t beautiful enough?

Later in the day, this happened….

 

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My husband…. who never throws anything out?

Loaded up his truck and went to the dump!

 

 

He cleaned out the giant stack of empty boxes and some of the crap that’s been clogging our garage for years.

We went from this…

 

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To this…

 

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Walls.

I can see the walls!

And he even got rid of that old sink he brought home from God knows where.

 

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Of course now I can see the vintage cash register and faded bed frame that I had no idea he’d snuck in as well.

But hey…

Even miracles only go so far.