One Hand, One Hip
We’re underway, folks. We’re about to pull the trigger and start the renovations and repairs on the bathrooms and the laundry room.
See that little hand? That little hand is on that little hip and chock full of Manager Of Planet Earth. I know that hand. VERY. WELL. I would’ve just stood there beside her as we surveyed the hot water heater and the rest of the upcoming project, and left well enough alone. I would have just stood there and acted all understanding (about plumbing, not her) and insightful (about plumbing, NOT her), and confident (ABOUT PLUMBING, NOT HER) *sobs*…
…except that I saw her put that hand on that hip.
And that tells me that Cute Redhead’s mind just tripped into Nuclear Reaction. Which meant that hot water heater was about to be ripped right out. With her bare hands. This called for evasive maneuvers.
“Oh my gosh! Can you believe who got voted off of Idol?!? Right? I know!”
Nothing. Not a word. Not even the courtesy “…Mm.”
And unless I want my Saturday throttled into Stephen King’s portrayal of home repair, I better come up with a diversion and fast.
“Honey, what do you *click* think about getting one of those 60-gallon *click* —”
“…are you taking pictures of me?”
*click*
“Um. Well. Sort of.” *click*
“Yeah. Well you better not show my stomach. I look fat. And if you do I’ll ‘sort of’ shove your dead carcass back behind this hot water heater.”
Okay, she didn’t actually say that.
At least not outloud.
But that one little hand on that one little hip?
Loud. And. Clear.
Did you just kick that cat? Yeah but Im not as bad as Jeffrey Dahmer. Did you just check out that woman jogging by? Yeah, but Im not as bad as Tiger Woods. Did you just say something flippant in the midst of a household “crisis”?. yeah but Im not as bad as Todd Clary. Toddy, Toddy, Toddy, you are a gift to husbands everywhere, thank you.
*bows