Tuesday, September 18, 2012

NJ Does Not Appreciate My MacGyver-esque Problem Solving Skills

Last week was homecoming at our little high school, which meant everyday was a "spirit" day. Wednesday was "Dress Like a Holiday" day and Grace decided she wanted to be the Easter Bunny. I kind of forgot about it due to work, FIL's being in the hospital, all my shit breaking and Max's upcoming birthday, but young Grace was kind enough to remind me Tuesday night, as I lay on the sofa in a mild coma. She was all like, "After you pick me up from helping wash Ace (he/she is a cow), we need to go to Michaels and get me some bunny ears, okay?" I was like, "Are you high? I'll just make you some bunny ears because my ass ain't going to town tonight." She was stabby, but I was stabbier, so she didn't throw much of a fit. 

I did a quick internet search and found this pattern. Luckily, I hadn't had a Mommy Dearest moment just yet and thrown out the wire coat hangers the former occupants of my home left behind and everything I needed was right here in the house. Or so I thought. 

After a few hours of diligently crocheting, sewing and mounting the ears on the wire coat hanger, I needed to cut it in half so I could sew them on to her headband. I went to the place where the wire cutters normally live and they were not there. I searched and searched the garage for all the places they might be (and hoping my suspicions about a skunk also living there were false) to no avail. But I did see something in NJ's hunting bucket that appeared to contain both a knife and a hatchet thingy. Because I am so industrious, I figured if those things would cut parts off animals they could totally manage a wire coat hanger. 

Yeah, I was totally right:

This is proof you could give me a stick of gum
and a piece of thread and I could totally end
the war on terror. Or that I'm strangely determined
when it comes to finishing a crafting project. 
Fast forward to Saturday when NJ and Papaw were putting his new bed and junk in his man cave. I was picking up around the house and realized I hadn't put the hatchet/knife thingy up, which required me to walk through the room to put it in the garage. The following is a re-enactment of mine and NJ's conversation:

NJ (pointing to the tools in my hand): What's that?

ME: I don't know. Some hatchet thing I found in your hunting bucket the other night.

NJ: Why is it in your hand?

ME: I had to cut something and I couldn't find the wire cutters.


ME: A wire coat hanger so I could make Grace some bunny ears. I put the picture on Facebook, dude.

NJ (kinda of angry like): PLEASE TELL ME YOU'RE JOKING!!!!!!!!!

ME (kinda scared like): Psshhhh, yeah I'm joking. There was a wild boar in the front yard and I had to save our family. It was messy and very dangerous, but I know you're grateful we're all okay.

NJ: Give me the stuff.

ME: I washed all the blood off, so there's no evidence.

Then he snatched it out of my hand all hateful like and took it out of the case. That's when the yelling at me began. I can't be sure what he was saying because the foam around his mouth was making it difficult to understand him, but I heard "took a long time to get that sharp" and "can't believe you thought it was okay to put metal on wire." Well, believe it, Big Boy. 

After he told me I couldn't touch his stuff anymore and I told him fine, he couldn't touch mine either and he looked as though he was going to use the hatchet on my throat, I went back in the house to avoid an untimely and gruesome death. Then, I thought I'd lighten the mood and put this on Facebook:

"I'm sorry using your hatchet thingy to cut a wire close (my phone changed it to the wrong spelling and I didn't notice until later) hanger was wrong & that I didn't know wire on metal was a bad thing. I don't judge you b/c you don't know what an irregular verb is, so you shouldn't judge me about not knowing about tools. Plus, if you'd just believed I'd used the hatchet to save our family from a wild boar in the front yard, you wouldn't even know about the bunny ear situation & you'd see me for the hero I really am. So, really, honey, this is your fault."

Initially, he got a good laugh out of the post, but then he looked closer at the blade on the hatchet.

"Where did you go to cut the clothes hanger?" he asked.

"Out front on the sidewalk. Duuuhhh. Where else was I going to go?" I responded, all smart assy.

That weird foam/screaming thing happened again and I ran away without even saying, "Dude, you gotta stop foaming at the mouth like that or I'm going to have to put you down like Old Yeller," which I thought was kind of witty and it pained me to hold it in. 

I think he's still mad at me, but now I'm mad at him, too. What kind of man doesn't appreciate wife who is resourceful enough to use the tools on hand to complete a job rather than go out and waste money on something we probably don't even need? And why couldn't I have been saving our family from a wild boar? That's not totally impossible.

He's ungrateful is what he is. 

See if I save his ass from the next wild boar.


Allenspark Lodge said...

Years ago you posted a blog saying (and I paraphrase) that you make a great friend, but you're not easy to live with.

This may be one of those times.

NJ- I feel your pain. Hide all your stuff. Not just the wire cutters.


Hillary said...

Sheesh. NJ should just be grateful that you didn't go all Lizzy Borden on his ass with that hatchet. Men. You just can't please 'em.... :)


Michelle Hoad said...

Maybe it's just me, but it seems easier to just drive to Michaels. There would be less foaming at the mouth.

Fire Wife said...

As someone whose husband used her kitchen shears to strip wire, and her ironing board (with it's brand new beautiful cover) to cut tile... I'm gonna have to agree with NJ.

I have definitely gotten foamy-at-the-mouth over those things. Although buying me new ones always helps.

Maybe you should buy him a new tool.

And a long-range rifle. Because while a hatchet-thingie might work on a wild boar, I wouldn't want to get near that close to the skunk you have living there :)

Kellie @ Delightfully Ludicrous said...

I have a long and illustrious history of using tools for the wrong purpose, so I totally sympathise with you. For years I used a hammer as a meat mallet ... but I also used a butter knife as a screwdriver so I think that evens it out.

Anonymous said...

I enjoy your stories immensely, so please don't get stabby on me when I make the following statement.

It is harder to find a good hatchet then it is to find a good wife. Every man who loves his tools will admit that if they are truthful. Sorry.

My Other Brother Darryl