Originally posted by ThisLadyHunts
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OP,
My husband was in a good mood, too, when he got home last night. Then I killed his joy with these 15 words…”Hi, honey! The kitchen sink’s backed up again. I tried to fix it myself but…”
I'll admit it, it was my fault. I put too much of the green leafy forage I feed him to keep him healthy right down the disposal and, after a couple of hours of trying to "snake it out," we finally decided to call the plumber first thing this morning. “Think of it like this, ma’am,” the barely pubescent, pimply-faced, snot-nosed baby plumber said to me, “disposals may be meant for food, but pipes are only meant for water.” And I have to admit, this does make some sense. After the plumber left, I apologized to my husband, thanked him for helping me try to fix it in the first place--after a long day at work, no less--and I promised never to throw food down the disposal again. (Ever. And this time I mean it.) I was very sincere in my apology, and while I hate to be critical, I thought the lack of grace he showed when he “accepted” it was a little disappointing. Still, I kept my mouth shut.
But before he even got in the back door last night, I knew something was off. I heard some loud, well, I can only describe it as “spewing”—a literal geyser of cursing, cussing, and swearing—coming from the garage. The ugly kind, too...numerous F-bombs, the Lord’s name in vain, and I even think I heard a reference or two to the sweet Baby Jesus, if you can believe that. A couple of days earlier, I was heading back from a recent trip to Dallas when the eighteen-wheeler driving next to me blew a tire and threw a tread which landed right in front of me. Don’t worry, I’m fine.
Now, I'm not one to brag, but to say I was prepared for this is an understatement, I’m proud to say. There were a lot of trucks on I-35 that day, and it was "hotter than the hinges"—108-degrees on the car t-stat—so conditions were right; I figured something like this could happen, and it did. The decapped tread landed right in front of me and there was nowhere for me to go but forward, so I drove right over it; no overreacting, no overcorrecting, just both hands on the wheel and over it I went. Pretty level-headed, right? Yes, I thought so, too. While things could have been far worse, they weren’t. Fortunately, I’m fine and the only damage sustained was to my car, which was considerable considering that all I ran over was a soft piece of rubber. Nevertheless, the front bumper was cracked in three places, my license plate bent nearly in half, a few errant pieces of plastic were knocked loose and hanging by a thread, and, of course, black rubber marks everywhere. “This is gonna cost a ‘G-danged’ fortune to get fixed…” my husband kept muttering. But don’t worry, I’m fine.
As you can imagine, it was with a huge sigh of relief this morning when I was able to send him off to work after the plumber left. However, he hadn’t been gone but a minute before he came storming back in. It seems the irrigation system cut on as it's scheduled to do, but there’s this huge geyser of water spewing out from where one of the telescoping sprinkler heads used to be.
Yeah, I'm sure that’s my fault, too…
My husband was in a good mood, too, when he got home last night. Then I killed his joy with these 15 words…”Hi, honey! The kitchen sink’s backed up again. I tried to fix it myself but…”
I'll admit it, it was my fault. I put too much of the green leafy forage I feed him to keep him healthy right down the disposal and, after a couple of hours of trying to "snake it out," we finally decided to call the plumber first thing this morning. “Think of it like this, ma’am,” the barely pubescent, pimply-faced, snot-nosed baby plumber said to me, “disposals may be meant for food, but pipes are only meant for water.” And I have to admit, this does make some sense. After the plumber left, I apologized to my husband, thanked him for helping me try to fix it in the first place--after a long day at work, no less--and I promised never to throw food down the disposal again. (Ever. And this time I mean it.) I was very sincere in my apology, and while I hate to be critical, I thought the lack of grace he showed when he “accepted” it was a little disappointing. Still, I kept my mouth shut.
But before he even got in the back door last night, I knew something was off. I heard some loud, well, I can only describe it as “spewing”—a literal geyser of cursing, cussing, and swearing—coming from the garage. The ugly kind, too...numerous F-bombs, the Lord’s name in vain, and I even think I heard a reference or two to the sweet Baby Jesus, if you can believe that. A couple of days earlier, I was heading back from a recent trip to Dallas when the eighteen-wheeler driving next to me blew a tire and threw a tread which landed right in front of me. Don’t worry, I’m fine.
Now, I'm not one to brag, but to say I was prepared for this is an understatement, I’m proud to say. There were a lot of trucks on I-35 that day, and it was "hotter than the hinges"—108-degrees on the car t-stat—so conditions were right; I figured something like this could happen, and it did. The decapped tread landed right in front of me and there was nowhere for me to go but forward, so I drove right over it; no overreacting, no overcorrecting, just both hands on the wheel and over it I went. Pretty level-headed, right? Yes, I thought so, too. While things could have been far worse, they weren’t. Fortunately, I’m fine and the only damage sustained was to my car, which was considerable considering that all I ran over was a soft piece of rubber. Nevertheless, the front bumper was cracked in three places, my license plate bent nearly in half, a few errant pieces of plastic were knocked loose and hanging by a thread, and, of course, black rubber marks everywhere. “This is gonna cost a ‘G-danged’ fortune to get fixed…” my husband kept muttering. But don’t worry, I’m fine.
As you can imagine, it was with a huge sigh of relief this morning when I was able to send him off to work after the plumber left. However, he hadn’t been gone but a minute before he came storming back in. It seems the irrigation system cut on as it's scheduled to do, but there’s this huge geyser of water spewing out from where one of the telescoping sprinkler heads used to be.
Yeah, I'm sure that’s my fault, too…
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