This past week both Macey and I have gotten into trouble. Her more so than me, but she got more of a reward for changing her behavior (since I didn't change mine or even agree to).
Here's how I got busted.
My back can only take so much twisting before it starts to hurt. It's mainly the motion you make while sweeping, or raking. I don't particularly like doing either, but there are times when it's necessary. Like this time of year.
Craig usually rakes all the leaves because he hates it when I hurt my back and hobble around for a day or so. But here's the thing about that - he doesn't like to rake either, and really hates to rake anything complicated, like around and under bushes, or in the drainage ditch, or the window wells... you get the picture. He'll do the vast expanses of lawn, but mostly blows off the pain in the rear stuff. I like to have those all raked, so some years I just ignore it, and some years I bite the bullet, risk having a spat, and do it myself.
Here is how it went this year. Craig call me after I spent about 90 minutes raking the piddly stuff around the yard without his knowledge.
Craig: Hey, I see you called me?
Me: Yeah, I did.
Craig: (pause) What did you want?
Me: Um, well, I was looking for something.
Craig: ...and? Did you find it?
Me: No, but it turns out I didn't need it.
Craig: Well, what did you need?
Me: Zip ties, but I used something else so don't worry about it.
Craig: What did you need them for?
Can you tell I was trying NOT to tell him that I broke the rake?
Me: Well, I kind of broke the rake. But I fixed it with duct tape, so don't worry about it. But we need a new one.
Craig: Sheri, don't even tell me you were raking.
Me: Well, yeah, kinda, but not for that long and I just got the stuff that you hate to do.
Craig: You shouldn't be doing ANY of it. And you raked so much you broke the rake??!
Me: Well, you know when the pile of leaves gets really big... (ooh, maybe not the best choice of words there...)
Craig: (sounding exceedingly more annoyed) Uh huh.
Me: Instead of trying to move it with just my arms, you know how I put the rake against the pile and push it along, like a snow plow? Well, I did that and pushed too hard and the rake broke. But I put it back together, and it's all fine now...
Craig: I can't even talk to you right now. I need to go. (sounding livid now)
Me: Okay... well, see you when you get home...
Truthfully, I didn't rake long enough to hurt myself (well, not much anyway) and I think the yard looks better. I did piss off my husband in the process, and that's not good. But we don't need to have this argument for another whole year, so that's something. Craig doesn't get why I care if all the leaves are raked perfectly. I think I've gotten forgiveness, if not understanding of my obsession with having a clean yard.
Now Macey, that little girl got in trouble with me. And it wasn't pretty.
To be continued...
Happy Birthday Mr. Blue
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