We had a really nice, looong weekend. We didn’t do that much, but aren’t those the best sorts of weekends? When you just sort of do whatever you feel like doing?
The hubs and I went grocery shopping – I always spend way more when the hubs is with me. He doesn’t go shopping with me very often, but when he does, he’s like a kid who can’t keep his grubby paws off the pretty, shiny new packages.
Him: “OH! Look at this! We need this.”
Me: “No we don’t. You WANT that. There’s a difference.”
He pouts (which I might add, is pretty cute) before he bounces back and picks up the next item.
Him: “We probably need one of these.”
Me: “We probably don’t.” And I put the item back.
And before I know it? We’re in no-man’s land – the aisle with the calculators. You know the aisle, I’m sure. The one where nearly half of the shelf is filled to capacity with every conceivable calculator ranging from the tiny hand-helds to the lap-sized and in every color (and then some) of the rainbow. (I’m finally catching onto the man because you see, he likes to distract me with all of the other grabbing and pleading so I’m not paying attention to what section of the store we’re heading until? It’s too late. We’re surrounded by calculators. *grumbles* Clever man …)
My husband is an certified public accountant. A darn GOOD accountant. Though he’s the first to admit that it’s a semi-boring job and he can’t wait to retire, blahblahblah, he secretly loves what he does because it challenges his brain cells and he just has a KNACK for shuffling money around (I still don’t quite know how he managed to pay our house off). So, when we get within a five aisle radius of calculators, I have to sprint to the automotive section, hunt down a crowbar and pull his butt away from all the pretty number buttons before it gets ugly.
Him: “We could use a calculator.”
Me: “No we couldn’t.”
Him: “But this one has big buttons and you KNOW how I can’t see anymore.’
Well, that’s true but,
Me: “So wear your glasses more often.” (I’m such a killjoy).
He goes off and pouts and I feel like a mean mommy – again. Hey! Wait a minute here … I passed those mean mommy years … wait, that’s not entirely true. The mean mommy years are still here, only mommy has had to change her tactics because the boys are teenagers now and have different demands/needs/wants and …
Good lord, where was I?
Oh yeah, back to our weekend… (Sorry. I do that in real life too. How annoying, right?)
SOOOO, after the hubs and I went shopping, and picked up some dinner (Chinese – a family favorite), it was time to pack up our fireworks and head out to my in-laws’ house (we go out there because
they live out in the boonies they enjoy sharing our firecrackers with us). Only, on the way there, we (well I really, since I was driving and the guys didn’t have a choice but to ride along – bwhahaha) made an unplanned trip to the fireworks tent. For you see, we had already gone once, and in fact, spent $50 on crap loud, pretty crackers. But I talked the hubs out of buying this one thing called Big Bang, er, Big Bangers, or something like that. Anyway, he was pretty bummed out about it, but honestly, spending $20 on something that could potentially burst our eardrums didn’t sound like a good deal to me. (See? I’ve got this mean mommy/wife thing down to a SCIENCE I tell ya!)
But I started feeling guilty. Poor hubs. He works hard for his money, why shouldn’t the man be allowed to buy his big bang firecrackers? So, I drove us back to the fireworks tent so we could buy them. The hubs half-heartedly objected, but I could tell, he really wanted to buy them, so buy them we did.
And I have to admit, they were the best ones in the lot. Not only did they go off with one of those supersonic BOOMS, they exploded into HUGE flowers of sparks and colors and we all enjoyed them, a lot. Big Bangers is on our list of must-haves next year, fer shore.
Saturday, the hubs spent the majority of the day under our house. For some strange reason, no matter how many fans the hubs puts under there, or how many vents he opens, or creates (more on that later), we can’t seem to get rid of the water under our house. It’s not like a lake under there, but there is definitely more water under there now than there was at the beginning of the summer. Granted, we’ve had a pretty wet summer thus far, but given our precautions to the contrary, we can’t seem to get rid of the standing water.
And we all know standing water is not a good idea. It attracts mosquitoes. It gets moldy and that’s not exactly good for us that have allergies. It causes rot … well, you get the general idea. So the hubs has been on a mission (and he loves missions – i.e. challenges) to dry out the crawl space.
He spent a good portion of the day digging out a 3-foot hole so he could put in a sump pump. He figures, he can dig trenches to the sump pump and the sump pump will do the rest of the work. (Our property is on a slope and we get a lot of run-off from our neighbors).
And though the sump pump will indeed help, it won’t dry out the remaining moisture. So what does my GENIUS husband do? (And no, I’m not being sarcastic, this man is truly creative and can monkey-rig anything), he buys an industrial-sized fan, and rigs it in the doorway of our crawl space.
And it works. He lit a punk, leftover from our fireworks, and held it up to the vent at the front of the house to see if it was sucking air into the crawl space.
The smoke did not lie, air was indeed being sucked into the crawl space. DAMN he’s good. So now hopefully, our crawl space will dry out and to be perfectly honest? Our house already smells better (it smelled so musty before).
But the crawl space isn’t the only ingenuous thing my husband came up with (well, actually, there are hundreds of things he’s done around the house to make our lives easier/more efficient, but ya’ll have lives and I don’t want to take up any of your precious time so … you’ll just have to trust me on this).
Now that we’re in the thick of summer, and the boys are home all day long, we’ve been having an issue. Not a serious issue, mind you, but definitely an issue. It’s annoying, it’s cluttering and it drives me batty.
We have a glass issue.
I don’t know how it happens? But I’m doing a dishwasher load of glasses nearly every day. The boys, (when they come out of their rooms for bathroom breaks and to eat – teenage boys DO NOT miss meals), forget what glass they had been using so … get another glass out of the cabinet. This not-knowing-which-glass-is-mine dilemma means I have glasses strewn ALL OVER the counter every single day.
And it’s not just the boys, the hubs is sort of bad about doing that himself. Me? I use the same cup all day long, every day. *cough*
So, not one to turn a challenge down, the husband comes up with a solution to my glass problem:
Clothespins. In addition to being handy in hanging up wet clothes AND serving as chip clips, now we have labeled our clothespins with our names and clip them onto our glasses whenever we’re not using them (because I have discovered, much to my boys’ amusement, that trying to drink anything from a glass with a clothespin? Simply DOES NOT WORK. I have the red bumps around my eyes and cheeks to prove it. And you only THOUGHT I was a dork. HA! Oh ye of little faith).
Isn’t this clever? Now? I only have HALF a dishwasher load of glasses to do every OTHER day. Now, if we could only think of someway to make the boys remember to CLIP their glasses when they’re done.
*sigh* It never ends.