Hubby and I are FINALLY moving our business from Rhode Island to Massachusetts in approximately two weeks. Because of all of the last minute preparations for our move, Hubs has been working like a mad dog. Seriously. If we didn't work together, I'd never see him.
On Sunday (and Saturday, too), he worked at our new building all day and night. At about 6:00pm, I called him to find out how he was doing and he basically bribed me with FOOD to come and hang out with him while he continued his construction project. He was all, "Why don't you come up here and I'll take you for dinner. I could use a break." Never one to pass up a good meal, I accepted....not realizing that HE had an ulterior motive.
After having a pretty quick meal of chicken fajitas, I drove Hubs back to work and had EVERY intention of going home to do laundry. Suddenly, Hubs said, "Don't you want to come in to see the progress that I've made today?"
In my mind I was all like, "No. I want to go home and wash my dirty underwear and watch all of my Tivo-ed crap from last week." But, I didn't want to hurt his feelings so I was all, "OF COURSE! Yay! Paint and sheet rock! Nails and pipes! Whoo friggin hoo!"
So I went in and looked around:
Walls, tools, and crap.
Pipes, metal stuff, and more crap.
Windows, metal doors, more crap, and a glimpse of the Hubby
Look! Crap on wheels!
Oh my friggin hell! Ungrouted tile! I can't contain my excitement!
As y'all can tell. This construction shit's not my bag. I pretend it is to keep the man happy. But, really? YAWN! I don't give a crap about THE CONSTRUCTION PROCESS.
So, on Sunday? When I tried to LEAVE him to his work and go home to my laundry, Tivo, and chai? Hubs wasn't having it. AND he tried to get me involved in the PROCESS. He was all, "Do you want to stay and help me?"
NO. I WANT TO GO HOME AND PUT ON MY JAMMIES AND WASH MY DELICATES AND WATCH RACHAEL RAY AND DRINK MY VANILLA CHAI.
Begrudgingly, I responded, "Um. Well. I'm not sure WHAT I can do. But, if you have something that YOU THINK I can do...well...okay." I was trapped. Son-of-a-b*tch.
So he says to me (all freakin excited cuz we were going to bond over tools and shit), "I KNOW! You can screw the plates onto the plugs in your office!"
Oh fuggin joy. Me, a screwdriver, and electric sockets.
That's a recipe for success, if I ever heard one!
So he takes me into what will be my new office and tells me to take these thingies (Herein referred to as THINGY #1):
And screw them onto these thingies (Herein referred to as THINGY #2):
Easy, peasy! RIGHT?!
Because when I tried to screw THINGY #1 over THINGY #2, this is what happened:
The THINGIES DID'NT LINE UP. So, I yelled to Hubs, who was in another room, "HEY PAUL! These covers DON'T LINE UP with the PLUGS! WTF?!"
And he yelled back, "They probably just have to be adjusted."
So, I waited and waited for like FIVE minutes and he NEVER CAME so I was like, "Frick this. I'll adjust them MYSELF!" So, I take the screwdriver and GENTLY push the side of THINGY #2 to the right, like this:
FYI...I KNEW BETTER than to stick that screwdriver anywhere near the actual socket holes because I am brilliant, RIGHT?
Don't ask me what I did, people. I still have no flippin idea. All I know is in the blink of an eye, I went from being
"Sally Smarty Pants" to "Sally Pissed My Pants" when I nearly electrocuted my damn self. OUUUUUCH!!!!!
And with this acknowledgement, I ask that you please humor me while I leave the following message for my husband:
Dear Paul, I love you. But, you can pretty much stick THIS and ANY FUTURE construction projects up you know where! Call me on moving day. Muchos Smoochos, Sally
*****THE PREVIOUS WAS A PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT BROUGHT TO YOU BY THE SKIN ON MY LEFT HAND, WHICH STILL SMELLS LIKE BACON*****