Sometimes I don't post because I have nothing to say. Sometimes I don't post because I have too much to say, and don't know where to start, or whether what I think I have to say is worth saying.
1) Over the weekend, I asked St. Rob to please poke around under the kitchen sink and use his carefully honed deductive reasoning skills to find out why my sprayer didn't work, and why the water pressure in the faucet was so low, in spite of the fact that we replaced all our pipes last year. He told me the job would take five minutes, cleared out all the junk under the sink, and set to work with his collection of wrenches and plumbing implements all kinds of other stuff. The long and the short of it is, he broke the faucet. To be fair, we don't really know if he broke it all by himself, or whether it was already kind of broken and he just pushed it the rest of the way, but either way, we had to buy a new faucet. I really want to believe that he has manly DIY skills, but deep down, I know he doesn't. In my darker moments, I'm sure he broke the damn thing. If you need someone to do a pivot table in excel or research obscure legal codes, he's your man. To his credit, he installed the new faucet, and it has a fancy sprayer, and, for now, it works just fine.
2) I spent my morning cleaning the blinds in my house. I have 9 sets of wood slat blinds in my house, and they were absolutely disgusting. When you closed them, the dust would just fall off. So I found myself with nothing to do and St. Rob says Hey! Why don't you clean the blinds! and I'm all yeah, whatever, and he's all If you don't do them, I'm going to do them this weekend because they are seriously grossing me out, and you know how you hate it when I do the jobs that you say are your jobs on the weekend right in front of you, so just think about that. He threw down a gauntlet! He was a gauntlet thrower! Mercifully, he doesn't read this blog on a regular basis (he gets the live show, lucky bastard) so he wont know for a little while how effective his strategy was. In fact, I really shouldn't even write this. It'll go to his head and next week he'll be like, Hey! Why don't you clean the baseboards! and how about that kitchen floor! and I'll be all, What? I can't hear you! Bad connection! I'm going through a tunnel!
3) I had the best day yesterday. I came home from dropping of Leila at school, and it was raining and cold, and I thought to myself, I'm a little sleepy. So I got back in bed and watched a few hours of keeping up with the Kardashians, got up again at around noon, ate some Lucky Charms, puttered around, and went to pick up the kid. Ahhhhhh. I love those kinds of mornings. I almost deserve them. Especially in preparation for cleaning all these stupid blinds today.
4) And this is the last thing. The other night I was planning on making fish that was supposed to look like this:
It ended up looking like this:
Rob ate it anyway, even though it was the consistency of scrambled eggs. What a good sport, if not a DIY God.
Pretty funny. I too get mad at my husband for doing jobs I think are mine. He says he is being helpful but I know he is being a martyr. "Look I can work full time and do everything around the house while you just sit around and watch tv.". Glad he doesn't read this to learn that strategy...
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