D.A. tricks me into screwing up. She doesn’t do it in a sneaky way or anything like that. She just gives me enough rope and points me to the nearest tree and waits for the hilarity to ensue. Case in point: she had eight bales of hay in the new trailer parked on one side of the house, and proposed that we used the wheel barrow to move the bales to the other side of the house. She obviously weighed the options and decided that towing the trailer to the other side of the house while dodging livestock, the barbecue, and the house may have been fraught with more danger than using the wheel barrow.I, however, did not weight the risks as accurately. Not even close. I decided to show off (which means “Hold my beer and watch this!” in my family’s language) my trailering skills by towing the trailer to the closest spot possible to unload. Getting the trailer there was like getting into trouble. It seemed almost too easy until it was time to get out.
While backing up the trailer in D.A.’s car I mis-judged, mis-calculated and every other miss in the book except for missing the clothesline. I managed to snap the 4-inch by 4-inch wood clothesline post off at the base. Yes, D.A. – the trailer and your car were fine.
Thanks for worrying about my safety. [Hey – why is she snapping those pictures? I am pretty sure our insurance won’t cover a clothesline.] It was while I watched her giggle as she snapped photos that I realized I just gave her something to write about.D.A. wasn't too hard on me. All she said was it was good that I did it and not her. I still not sure what she meant by that. It took two hours, 20 pounds of cement, and four blisters to pound an 18-inch hole into the rock/clay to put the new post in. See what I mean? I don’t know how D.A. tricked me. Not only did I screw up right in front of her, I even wrote the post telling how I did it.
Husbands giving us girls something to right about is nothing new, Phil. It's a daily event. But we still love ya -- maybe even because of it. We don't view it as screwing up -- at least I don't. You tried. That's the most important thing.
ReplyDeleteGreat to see you contributing to the blog. Hope to see more of it. Hope you and Deb have a great weekend.
Poor man, to have been victimized in such a sneaky way. : )
ReplyDeleteIf I had all the money today that I have spent over the years correcting problems created after saying “Hold my beer and watch this!” I could go a long way toward relieving the pain caused by Bernie Madoff
ReplyDeleteEllie is very fond of Uncle Phil's "hold my beer and watch this" phrase. It defines "fun" for her. Maybe she's a future sneaky wife in training...
ReplyDeleteGiven the cussing out Deb could have been delivering as you snapped off the clothes line, I think giggling and taking pictures is the preferred outcome.
Hahaha, that's a girl after my own heart. You did a wonderful job writing the post though, that's gotta count for something, right?! :)
ReplyDeleteThere should be a support group for husbands of bloggers. Now, every time my hubby does something, well, less than brilliant, shall we say, he turns to me and says "Guess I'm gonna be on that damn blog of yours again, huh?" The good news is, we're making less trips to the ER these days, now that he weighs the risks of having his fiasco made public!
ReplyDeleteI think I have found a kindred spirit in DA's husband. As for you, Hill Country Hippie, I just make sure you don't find out what I've done. Why do you think I'm always sitting there with a sly grin on my face when you return home from one of your errands?
ReplyDeleteIt used to be that we spouses only had to worry that our exploits/fiascos would make it over the fence to the neighbors during impromptu confabs (a.k.a gossip time). Thanks to our significant others' blogs that fence has become a whole lot more crowded.
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