Thursday, August 11

Marriage Bliss

I have been vindicated. Isn't it great when you really screw up, but then someone comes along and wipes it from memory with their own transgression?

As you know, we have recently acquired a little house. We are in that limbo stage of getting the house ready enough to move in, all the while biting our nails in anticipation of actually spending a night there. So, at the end of a long day, I carefully locked all of the windows and bolted the front door (we are in NE) before exiting the side door. Then Allan asked the question that made me want to beat my head bloody against the nice tan, vinyl siding of our new abode: You grabbed the keys, right? And, to remind you, I have just carefully secured the house into a Fort Knox-like structure. I really hate messing up; I generally try to avoid it. But, I have to tell you, the thing that really bugged me about this was that I could tell Allan was mad. No empathy, no it's okay honey - these things happen. Nada. Just a wisp of steam coming out of his ears as we drove back to my parent's home for the night.

Cut scene to the next afternoon. After paying Hamid $45 to jimmy my front door open in all of about ten seconds, I worked terribly hard all day turning the Santa Fe burnt orange and turquoise living room into a pleasant sage green. I had enjoyed the quiet, sans kids day of listening to NPR while working on my larger-than-life canvas. Knowing that I would have to live with my work for some time, I was as careful as one could be to not get a blip of that paint on the carpet (do you see where this is heading?) When he joined me at the end of the day, my dear husband did a great job of oohing and aahing over my work of art. He began to swiftly move across the room to point something out, when in slow-motion, I saw that he was about to field-kick the can of sage green paint that was sitting in the middle of the room to Timbuktu. My svelete ninja-like reaction was to simultaneously suck all of air out of the room with the most earth-trembling gasp you have ever witnessed, while covering my eyes with both hands. And that is where I stayed for quite some time. I couldn't look. I knew from the colorful words bouncing off of the fresh paint that danger had not been averted.

What was that about locking the keys in the house?


Allan W. said...

For the record:

I wasn't mad. I was annoyed. There's a HUGE difference people! Geez.

I will admit that I said some very, very bad words. Colorful carpets call for colorful language.

I was actually able to suck up all the paint with Lanny's Shop-Vac (props to you!). The water I poured buckets of on the carpet, though, wound up in the basement...

...which mercifully was concrete, so cleanup was fairly quick. Whew!

An inauspicious beginning...

Allan W. said...

Kicking the can was completely my fault. I am a total dork.

But WHY for the love of all that is holy was the can of paint sitting DIRECTLY on the carpet, with nary a tarp in sight????

THAT IS RULE NUMBER ONE! To protect your home from people like me!

It's like shaking a can of paint without holding down the lid - just in case.

Allan W. said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
kristi w said...

Your Honor, please instruct the nincompoop who just commented that if he claims to "set the record straight", he should please do so accurately.

It was sitting on a towel. A towel which had kept all little drips and dobbles off of the carpet...all day.

I am truly amazed that there was only one thing in the entire house that he could kick over and, voila!, he managed to find it.

It's a good thing he gives such good foot massages.

Jason Hill said...

You guys make me laugh. At least you are still talking with each other--even if it is on the 'net.

Can't wait to come and see the progress at your new house.

rebecca marie said...

kristi - i have to tell you a story. a few years back (8 and a half, specifically) i was sans keys. i was desperate. the kind of desperate that has you looking in places like the dishwasher and freezer on the remote chance you had placed them behind the frozen corn. i was in danger of being late for work, which was in north west portland (remember when we worked in the same building jason?) and forty minutes away.

so i bit the bullet, i called scott at work, "babe? do you by chance have my keys?" now it is a very big deal to call him at work, i try to do so very sparingly. "no, why would i have your keys?" "okay, it's just, they're lost, and i'm desperate." "sorry," click.

so i call work. "uhm, i feel sort of stupid, but i've lost my keys. if i'm going to be more than an hour late, i'll call again and then i'll figure out the bus system." not ideal timing for tardiness of this level, as i was training about forty people on our new computer system.

a half an hour later, i squash all my pride and call scott again. "honey? i know this is going to be a mega inconvenience, but i need you to stop what you are doing, come home, give me the key to my car off of your key ring, and lock the front door for me so that i can go to work." he was even less kind on the second call.

so imagine my glee, when he came up the walk holding my keys. apparently, they were in his coat pocket.

also, on a different note... praise God! i don't know if you've been following along... but matthias kamasz had his lung transplant a few weeks ago... his wife emailed me to tell me it had gone awesome, and then this was the front page of the bend bulletin yesterday. he looks better three weeks after surgery than he did at his own wedding. PRAISE GOD.

sorry to hog your comments...

kristi w said...

Oh my goodness! Rebecca, thank you for the update on Matthias. I had no idea! I'll pass it along to other classmates, as well. Do you have an email address or anything for him?

rebecca marie said... is his email. and, he goes by matt these days, although i can't seem to say anything but moe or matthias.

Lanny said...

You guys *are* funny; it takes space in cyberland to have a really excellent historical retelling from all angles of an "annoyance". Glad the shop-vac could serve as an impersonal marriage counselor :)

Davis Family said...

Lanny, I just feel for your ShopVac (which might never be the same). :)