My wife is incredibly patient, given that she lives with a four-year-old. (That would be me.)
This weekend, I worked on installing more terra foama in St. Williams. With the exception of a short stretch in front of the depot, the basic land forms are all in place and ready for carving.
I then drag it along behind me as I go. It keeps the caulking gun loaded with No More Nails Ultra at a convenient height.
Things were going well. But then, while marking the underside of a panel of foam board so I could cut it to follow the fascia, I felt something sticky on the back of my head. Yep – I backed into the caulking gun.
“Honey? When you come downstairs can you bring some scissors?”
“What have you done now?”
In the end, it took scissors and one of the dog grooming combs to work the No More Nails Ultra out of my hair, but my wife cleaned me up pretty quickly. The reminder of being a kid and getting chewing gum stuck in my hair will remain much, much longer…
Yes, being married to me can be a trial at times. But as I remind my wife whenever I do something stupid like this, at least I don’t get over-refreshed at dinner parties and do Belly Savalas impersonations…