That ‘ol Git ‘er Done Attitiude, and why it may be the death of my husband

Two nights ago I had dropped the kids off at church for the evening and came home.  When I pulled into my driveway, I hit a brick wall.  Head on.  Figuratively, of course.  The bushes in front of my house caught my eye, they needed trimmed.  Immediately.  I got out of my van and headed straight to the shed.  Did not pass go, did not collect $200.  Didn’t even get my purse out of the van (which really confused me a few hours later when I was looking for it).  Keith kind of scowled at me as I entered the shed, as that is very much his territory.  He also knows if I grab something out of the shed, there is a good chance he will have to deal with it sooner or later.  I grabbed the loppers, ignored him asking where I was going and what I was doing and went in full on attack mode.  Those bushes didn’t stand a chance.

Is tunnel vision a medical condition?  I have this slight problem of getting something in my head and being able to focus on nothing else until it is done.  While this may seem like a great attribute, it is not.  At least not for my wonderful husband.  Much to his chagrin, there isn’t too much I won’t give a shot.  Why would me being an ambitious and driven woman be an annoyance to him?  I can think of a few instances he might use to state his case…

1) I am not an electrician, but I will play one in my house.  Don’t worry, I have never burned a house down (side note: future blog entry- the time I set the house on fire… but I did NOT burn it down so lay off).  Anyway, Keith was not moving at an acceptable pace for whatever home improvement project we were working on at the time.  Seems like it was in the kitchen?  So, being the amazing wife I am, I thought I would help him out.  I started changing out the outlets just like my momma taught me.

Keith gets home and sees what I am doing and starts yelling at me for having the electricity on while changing the outlets.  I told him proudly that out of five outlets I had only been shocked twice, and I thought that was pretty darn good!  He was not impressed or amused.  As he ripped the tools from my blackened, trembling hands (KIDDDING!), I told him that I was doing it how my mom taught me and she never turned off the electricity.  He then either called us both idiots or said that explains a lot… something along those lines.

I then had to waste the rest of my evening playing musical breakers to find the correct one to shut off followed by holding the flashlight while Keith finished the job in our now dark home.  I was highly irritated, as I would have already been done (or dead according to him.  He is such a downer sometimes).  Now, instead of doing something productive like watching Beavis and Butthead (this was a long time ago) I had to listen to him complain about the angle I was holding his flashlight.  I suggested adjusting it to be perpendicular to the back of his skull, but I think he skipped geometry because he, as usual, was not amused.

2)  The case of the missing earring.  This was also many years ago.  Keith had gotten me a set of diamond earrings for Christmas!  I dropped one down the drain around New Years.  Now really, this was not entirely my fault.  Had Keith bought BIGGER diamonds, they wouldn’t have fit under the stopper and down the drain.  So really, what happened after that is all on him.

I kinda freaked out.  I was upset that I lost the earring and I really didn’t want Keith to know I had dropped it down the drain.  Being the resourceful gal I am, I headed to find Keith’s tools.  (Keith would ask, if he contributed to- or read- this blog, that you notice a trend of problems when I use his tools.  I would ask that you notice the face I make mocking him in response.)  I tried a handful of wrenches to no avail.  I contemplated leaving it, waiting until Keith got home to advice deal with it.  But I knew in my heart of hearts, that if I left it, my earring would not be there when I returned.  This would be the day our house got robbed and the thieves would be sure to practice good hygiene after using our restroom and wash my precious earring away as they washed their hands.

I had no choice.  I had to get the earring out.  Calling the police seemed a bit premature, as the thieves hadn’t shown up yet.  I also knew that if I called a plumber I would never hear the end of it.  Although, in retrospect that *may* have been the better choice.  Whatever.  Desperate times call for desperate measures people.

I went back to the tools.  The stupid wrenches may have been worthless, but I found something I knew would work.  The perfect tool to get my earring back in my hands.  I squatted down and twisted my neck so I could see what I was doing and I began.  Back and forth, back and forth I sawed away through the drain trap.  Sawed the whole thing right off!  Go me!  I dug my earring out of the nastiness that fills the trap and put it in a bowl to clean it.  You didn’t think I would go near the sink with it did you??  Besides, there was no drain trap.  I couldn’t exactly run water and rinse it off.

On my way to the office I called Keith to let him know he should probably pick up a new drain trap on the way home…


“Because.  We need a new one.”


“Ours is gone.”




“Is this connection bad?  Yes, gone.”

“WHERE did it GO?”

“In the trash”  Why must he ask so many questions.  Really annoying.


“What are you, two?  What is with all the whys?  Just get a new drain trap ok”

“WHAT THE HELL WAS WRONG WITH THE OLD ONE??”  Keith has a potty mouth.  He says I bring that out in him.

“It didn’t match.  It was PVC, our fixtures are brushed nickel.  It had to go.”


“About what?  It really didn’t match.”

“SO YOU TOOK IT OFF AND THREW IT IN THE TRASH?!?”  He really was yelling at me.

“Well, I didn’t really take it off… I couldn’t find the right wrench”


“I used the hacksaw.  You told me to leave the power tools alone, and I didn’t want to make you mad.”


“Duh.  I married you.  Anyway, I got my earring out too.  Love you!  See you tonight!  Bye!”

By then I was at the office and had to explain why I was late.  I got the usual chorus of “poor Keith” as the guys rolled their eyes.  They were all missing the point.  I GOT MY EARRING.

After a while, I came to a stunning revelation.  I am pretty sure I picked it up watching Keith attempt laundry.  If I started a project, I could make sure to do it just enough “wrong” when Keith came in the room, he would begrudgingly finish it.  Sure, I had to listen to him complain but it gave me ample time to watch Beavis and Butthead (really not sure I ever even watched one episode).  We had a perfect system going for years.  I would ask him to do laundry.  I would get annoyed and do it the RIGHT way.  I would start/screw up a project and he would get annoyed (or in an effort to keep me away from his tools) and he would finish it.

<a href=””><img src=”” alt=”Image” width=”1013″ height=”724″ /> He will let the two year old use his tools, but not me.

He ruined it.  He caught on and quit the little game.  AND he still doesn’t do laundry.  I am really getting the short end of the stick here folks.  So after I trimmed ALL the bushes we own (because after doing the front two, the four or five on the side of the house looked just plain ridiculous) I went after his wheelbarrow.  In the past, he would be all over it wanting to know where I was going, what I was doing.  He kinda looked up and raised his eyebrow.  I think it may have been a dare.

I loaded all that I had trimmed and hauled it over and parked it at his feet.  “Here you go!”  If you say things cheerily to the kids, it often garners a better response.  With Keith, not so much.

He scowled at me “What’s that?”

“uh, branches.  And leaves.”



“So why do I want them?”

“I thought you could build a fort.  It could be fun”

“You cut them, you deal with them”  I told you, he RUINED our perfect little arrangement.

I dealt with them alright.  Deer season is upon us.  Keith rarely has time to make it in the woods.  Because I love him so, and I want him to be able to do the things he enjoys, I thought I would help him out.  I unloaded the wheelbarrow into the cab of his truck, making a camouflaged deer camp of sorts.  I am such a good and thoughtful wife.

Noooooo.  I didn’t really do that.  But I did laugh at the prospect while I unloaded the branches and leaves into the burn pile.  Dumping the wheelbarrow was easy peasy.  I have bigger projects to sucker him into.


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