Tag Archives: marriage

Why does he make everything twice as difficult as it has to be?

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We have a barn that really isn’t a barn. What started out as storage space for motorcycles and lawn mowers has morphed into a custom built man cave… and now that the man cave has a heat pump? The upstairs has to be temporarily blocked off for winter before the staircase turns into a chimney.

This should have been a simple project.

I told the husband – cut a piece of insulation foam. The heat pump installer told the husband – cut a piece of insulation foam. The friend that helps him now and then told the husband – cut a piece of insulation foam.

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Which is why the husband made a hinged door out of zip siding.

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Did I mention the husband doesn’t like to be told what to do?

After a laborious day of cursing and figuring and adjusting and fitting and more cursing….

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The husband came home to cut a piece of insulation foam.

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Which he wanted to attach to that hinged door of zip siding.

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This involved more measuring and cutting ..

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And fitting and pushing and removing and more measuring and cutting.

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Please note the non OSHA approved chunk of wood dismantling the saw’s safety feature.

More fitting.

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More measuring and cutting.

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More fitting.

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Halfway through the process, Mike Pence stopped by to say hello.

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And finally after I helped him measure, cut and fit for 3 hours to no avail… I snuck out.

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For the sake of my sanity…. as well as our marriage.

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When in doubt, wear red.

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I just realized I haven’t posted a photo of the big barn since the staining and painting were completed.

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Needless to say I’m very pleased.

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The nice thing is, the husband was pleased as well.

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I know this because I overheard him talking to the painter saying he wasn’t sure he would like a red barn and that he’d fought his wife over it… boy did he!… but in the end, even he had to admit it looked great.

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Technically it’s not totally done, as the crew is going to box in the eaves on the overhang. But in Maine, you have to paint until the weather turns, so they’ll be back another day to finish that.

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My porch furniture cushions also need to be recovered in a fabric that doesn’t clash.

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But baby barn approves.

And we have a red and white barn!

Yay.

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Oh no, not again.

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I walked into the barn this morning to find my husband working on a template.

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And yes, I cringed.

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Having finished one side of the strapping on the ceiling and running out of that particular wood, he decided it was time to trim the windows.

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And while I applauded the fact he was actually going to corner them properly, I knew it wouldn’t be smooth sailing.

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One day.

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One entire day to frame two windows … because he added quarter round.

Why did he add quarter round you ask?

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Because when he first built this barn to be a… you know, barn? …there were giant gaps around the windows and nothing was air tight. Who was going to complain…. the lawn mowers?

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But now that’s it morphed into a palatial man cave, gaps must be sealed.

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And live ordinance moved.

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Framing on the outside, quarter round on the inside, and extra quarter round on the top corners…. all because he didn’t install the windows correctly the first time.

Jesus wept.

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But two windows were framed…

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And the giant bullet is back home.

To be continued…. unfortunately.

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I’m ready to cry Uncle.

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First it was not at all temporary temporary doors. Then insulation and a ceiling and new light fixtures and floor moulding and quarter round.

Now?

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The husband is installing strapping to cover the plywood ceiling seams.

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Technically this is finish work. And we all know that is not where his talents lie.

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Was the strapping straight?

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Not so much.

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Of course when I helpfully pointed that out, I got booted from the barn/man cave/Maine Taj Mahal.

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When I went back 2 hours later? He informed me the strapping wasn’t right and needed to be redone.

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Hmm. Why didn’t I think of that?

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Cutting and more cutting.

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Cutting around the light fixtures I tried to tell him to center 2 weeks ago.

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But all the cutting resulted in straighter lines.

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Aggravating? No doubt.

But…

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We did have gorgeous fall foliage in the background so I’ll call it a win.

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Real time at Casa River.

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So this is my life.

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I elevate, ice, read, and groan every time I have to move. Not how I envisioned spending my favorite time of year.

The foliage is peak, the temperatures are blissfully cool and I’m stranded on the couch like a beached Beluga.

There are very few good things to report when you’ve torn your meniscus and damaged your MCL, but one must take solace where one can.

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My husband feeling guilty for his mobility and finally installing the new blinds in the office? The ones that have been sitting next to his desk for the last 3 months?

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My husband breaking the special order extra wide curtain rod for my Waverly valance after I told him to be careful because they’re tricky to take down? Because he has no patience for anything the least bit domestic and never thinks I know what I’m talking about? Because he was cursing a blue streak as he tried to tape it back together?

Solace for a couch bound whale wife.

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Please excuse the 2 six packs, 5 bottles of wine and the jug of premixed cherry limeade margaritas in the corner.

My liquor cabinet is full… and Jeff Bezos can only do so much.

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Who is this man and what have you done with my husband?

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It’s beginning to feel like Invasion of the Body Snatchers up at Casa River.

There’s a pod here somewhere…. I know it.

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It’s the only possible explanation for why you can currently see the floor… and walls!…. of our garage.

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The look alike alien husband removed the rattle trap archaic blower which was here when we moved in.

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He even *gasp* hung things up. Look, little shelves with neatly coiled tie down straps! Be still my heart.

And then? Excuse me while I reach for my smelling salts… he took his prized 400 lb antique potato planter out of the big barn.

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He loaded it on his truck.

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And gave it to our town’s historical society!

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(I think I may have passed out at this point.)

And just when I was sure my husband had been replaced by an otherworldly facsimile…

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I found him back in the garage knee deep in this.

Delicate apparatus?

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Well, not quite.

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Box full of rusty old tools that haven’t worked since Christ was a Corporal?

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There he is!

Welcome back honey. I missed you…

I rarely post in real time….

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But I’m in pain and quite cranky, so here goes.

Remember a while back I stained our back deck on my hands and knees? I do it every few years but this time it caught up with me. Thank you (not so) old age, you suck the big root.

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My knee had been stiff and sore for the last month but I’m tougher than I look and just went about my business.

Bad move. Very, very bad.

Yesterday I stepped off my kitchen porch and something snapped. Like a rubber band… and yes, I screamed. Did I mention we had a big storm the night before and had been without power for 10 hours by then?

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Good times.

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I hobbled back in the house and iced it down but holy hell it hurt. I couldn’t walk, couldn’t bend, couldn’t put any weight on it whatsoever. Spent a very uncomfortable and sleepless night, then woke up looking something like this:

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I didn’t dare attempt a shower, so I limped to the doctors office this morning with my radical bed head and frightened a few staff members along the way.

Hey, ya gotta take your jollies where you can.

Turns out the doctor they assigned me wasn’t really a doctor just a nurse practitioner. And when he put me on the table to start pulling and tugging my leg in different directions? I was ready to cram his stethoscope where the sun don’t shine.

After the exam and manipulation I was almost in tears. Which is when he told me to go across town for xrays and an appointment with an orthopedist because oh, by the way… he had no earthly idea what was wrong with me. As I made my way back to the waiting room… with the speed of a 200 year tortoise… I discovered my husband had decided now would be a good time to request his flu shot.

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Which we waited a good half hour for.

So.. by the time I got across town, had xrays and was ready for my orthopedist appt? We found out the orthopedist leaves at noon.

It was 12:05…. and I was not a happy camper.

Long story long, I have an appointment tomorrow morning at 8:00am and they think I either tore a ligament or ripped a tendon. Either way, it’s not good.

And oh yes, my devoted spouse who took the day off from work to care for me? He’s at our local pub having a late lunch. Me? I had to make my own.

Ain’t love grand?

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The miracle continues…

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Out of nowhere the husband decided to clean the garage.

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And there was lots to sort through and clean believe me.

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Did I crochet that?

I once superglued the straps of my bathing suit together, so… no.

Like hundreds of other items that show up in our out buildings, I have no clue how it came to be there. But the point is, the husband was willing to get rid of some things and that had to be celebrated.

Applauded.

And crowed about on a blog.

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Okay, so he wasn’t willing to part with everything. This was old, rusted and didn’t work.

In other words, a keeper!

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Halfway though the day he stumbled on that motorcycle dolly he just had to have. You know the one… I bought it for his birthday 10 years ago, almost broke my back getting it into the house and wrapped? The one he not only didn’t use, but never even opened?

Yeah, that one.

Problem was it had been stuck in the back of the garage for all that time and a mouse family had moved in. So when he picked it up?

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The bottom of the box gave way.

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And pounds of mouse shavings, clippings and poo fell out.

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But one side of the building revealed it did indeed have a (seriously cracked) floor and the truck was filling up for a dump run.

Cue the brass band.

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Naturally if I put anything in there, it had to be gone over with a fine tooth comb. Which by the way, I found three of.

None with a full set of teeth.

Good times.

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So maybe it wasn’t quite the miracle I thought.

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The other day I blogged about the miracle of finding my husband getting rid of things in the big barn.

I was happy!

I was thrilled!

Heck, I was downright orgasmic.

Until I walked upstairs.

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A lot of the things I thought he’d gotten rid of…

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Had just migrated upward instead. So with determination in my step I went back down to help him sort through things to throw away.

It did not go well.

Here are a few of the items he couldn’t bear to part with.

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No, you’re not seeing double. That’s a flippable measuring cup… though why on earth you’d need to flip one I don’t know.

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Blank dog tags.

A box of them.

Why? Unless he’s planning to outfit a woodchuck army…. I don’t see the point.

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A rock.

And while I’m normally all about the rocks, I do prefer mine outside…. or slowly cooling my gin and tonic.

Finally there was this:

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He wouldn’t part with it, even though he didn’t know where he’d gotten it or what the hell it was.

So let me resurrect that old blog series I used to torture you with..

Name That Crap!

What is it?

( And yes, I did research so I know the answer. )