This morning, I shower and get dressed, then walk into the kitchen for morning coffee. My husband instincts instantly pick up on the fact that Mrs. Fin is doing that "whistle while she waits" routine. Uh oh, something's up. I've been married to this woman for 26+ years and I know when the "fertilizer is about to hit the ventilator."
I look at her laptop and she is logged in to Hunt Talk, with this thread opened.
I say nothing. I tell her it was all an attempt to find humor in my self-deprecating admission of my "handy man" short comings. Not sure if she bought it, or not. The next hour is a critical time for me to dismiss any thoughts she has to the contrary. Time to put on a good display if my ineptitude.
As if right on cue, she unknowingly serves me up a home run pitch. She instructs me that it is May 1st and the old plates on the SUV are expired; that they must be changed for the new charity plates she bought, before we run into town. The kitchen and utility room are now partially disassembled from my search for a Phillips screwdriver or a 3/8" wrench. A half hour of searching and a few cuss words and still no luck.
Before heading into town, I pull over to the shop and find my most versatile tool; Channel locks. By that time, I am in the "don't speak to me mode" so she and the dog sit in the vehicle and wait while I try to overcome this sophisticated challenge of changing license plates. I bang on the back hatch to knock the dust off and cuss a few more times. Then knowing I have feigned enough ineptitude, I grab my hidden tool set from a dark corner of the shop and quickly swap out the plates.
She says nothing for the first mile of our drive into town. The silence in the car is broken by her lap dog trying to lick my face as a peace offering. It works. The Newberg household has survived another mechanical marital event. Coffee and scones are picked up at the local coffee bar and without saying a single word, it is evident we will continue our truce where I do not ask her about her Vegas budgets and she will not ask me to do anything mechanical, maintenance, or construction related.
Whew, a close call.
I look at her laptop and she is logged in to Hunt Talk, with this thread opened.
I say nothing. I tell her it was all an attempt to find humor in my self-deprecating admission of my "handy man" short comings. Not sure if she bought it, or not. The next hour is a critical time for me to dismiss any thoughts she has to the contrary. Time to put on a good display if my ineptitude.
As if right on cue, she unknowingly serves me up a home run pitch. She instructs me that it is May 1st and the old plates on the SUV are expired; that they must be changed for the new charity plates she bought, before we run into town. The kitchen and utility room are now partially disassembled from my search for a Phillips screwdriver or a 3/8" wrench. A half hour of searching and a few cuss words and still no luck.
Before heading into town, I pull over to the shop and find my most versatile tool; Channel locks. By that time, I am in the "don't speak to me mode" so she and the dog sit in the vehicle and wait while I try to overcome this sophisticated challenge of changing license plates. I bang on the back hatch to knock the dust off and cuss a few more times. Then knowing I have feigned enough ineptitude, I grab my hidden tool set from a dark corner of the shop and quickly swap out the plates.
She says nothing for the first mile of our drive into town. The silence in the car is broken by her lap dog trying to lick my face as a peace offering. It works. The Newberg household has survived another mechanical marital event. Coffee and scones are picked up at the local coffee bar and without saying a single word, it is evident we will continue our truce where I do not ask her about her Vegas budgets and she will not ask me to do anything mechanical, maintenance, or construction related.
Whew, a close call.
