it finally happened. i finally got tired of waiting for joel to finish school. i finally took my life off hold.
... at least the man-project-y part of my life.
this weekend i decided my wait for help from the consummate studier was over. i painted a room, hung stuff up, screwed stuff in, raked and weeded stuff (in very close proximity to 37 spiders - i counted), and did lots of other manly stuff... all by myself.
meanwhile, my manly husband studied algorhythms, biorhythms, theorhythms, and lots of other rhythms, as well as brains.
monday night joel was holding a mirror up for me while i screwed it into the wall, and i saw him looking at me, in the mirror, giving me that look. the "wow, you're hot" look.
now, let me paint a picture here: i had spent all day with the spiders. i was fresh out of the shower, achy, and tired. my hair was pulled tightly back (except for the little dry bits that were frizzing everywhere), my face was blotchy, my eyes were red and puffy from exhaustion, and my nose was red and puffy from an apparent allergy to dirt. i quickly glanced at the mirror to make sure the adoring look wasn't directed toward a toothpaste splotch shaped like che guevara.
to my surprise, there were no likenesses of south american revolutionaries in sight. my husband was looking at me!
and so i learned this weekend that the way to my husband's heart ... is with a screwdriver.
(metaphorically speaking, of course.)
... at least the man-project-y part of my life.
this weekend i decided my wait for help from the consummate studier was over. i painted a room, hung stuff up, screwed stuff in, raked and weeded stuff (in very close proximity to 37 spiders - i counted), and did lots of other manly stuff... all by myself.
meanwhile, my manly husband studied algorhythms, biorhythms, theorhythms, and lots of other rhythms, as well as brains.
monday night joel was holding a mirror up for me while i screwed it into the wall, and i saw him looking at me, in the mirror, giving me that look. the "wow, you're hot" look.
now, let me paint a picture here: i had spent all day with the spiders. i was fresh out of the shower, achy, and tired. my hair was pulled tightly back (except for the little dry bits that were frizzing everywhere), my face was blotchy, my eyes were red and puffy from exhaustion, and my nose was red and puffy from an apparent allergy to dirt. i quickly glanced at the mirror to make sure the adoring look wasn't directed toward a toothpaste splotch shaped like che guevara.
to my surprise, there were no likenesses of south american revolutionaries in sight. my husband was looking at me!
and so i learned this weekend that the way to my husband's heart ... is with a screwdriver.
(metaphorically speaking, of course.)
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