Psyops Failure

Yesterday was one of those rare Saturdays with no events lined up to complicate a life of leisure.  Then again, nature hates a vacuum.  We were planning on a trip down to Rhode Island to see the miracle lady – Miss Louise.  Before that there were various and sundry tasks around the house that needed attention.

The handyman installation of the side door had not included cleanup.  The old, rotted out door was resting in Buddy’s bathroom along with the detritus from the excavated frame.  Buddy was not amused.  Since the door would not fit in a garbage bag (yet!) I had to break it down into its component parts.  Now here was something right up my alley, no skill, just destructive intent.  Since it stayed I the 30s yesterday I dragged the door into the basement to meet its fate.  The door was not without defenses though and my hand was shortly dripping blood as a stray nail was launched in my path.  My wife opines that she can always tell when I’ve been working around the house because there’s usually a blood smear.  Unfortunately something I’ve passed on to my son.  The door eventually gave up the ghost but turned out to be more Styrofoam than wood and steel.  It now fit into several garbage bags although my wife surveying the carnage of a basement covered in Styrofoam particles was less than impressed.  Buddy just nodded sagely.

The Remains of the Door

I took Buddy with me to Home Depot to score the new deadbolt I had to install.  His main contribution to the effort was hanging out the car window.  The handyman said the deadbolt installation would be a piece of cake.  He must be eating some pretty complicated cake because this was right on the edge of my competence.  I had to chisel out a larger aperture for the strike plate which caused my wife to express some real concern about my aptitude to execute such a maneuver (she knows me well).  Of course this was all it took to launch me into a chiseling frenzy.  I didn’t gouge the brand new door frame too badly but was blessed with one of those haughty, wifely, “told you so” looks when she inspected.

New Deadbolt With Slightly Altered Door Frame

I’ve been effusive in my praise for my wife’s painting efforts this week, knowing there was a second coat needed in the guest bed room.  I thought she wouldn’t risk her masterpiece to her exceedingly less talented husband.  I was wrong – I guess I have to step up my psyops game because this campaign was a total failure.  I was shortly warming up the paint roller.

She did offer some less than welcome guidance about my technique and then wisely left me to own devices.  I completed the task and summoned her for the requisite inspection.  She walked into the room and burst into laughter.  Not exactly the reaction I was expecting until she pointed at my face.  I had paint smudges covering my hands and several on my face.  She said she’d painted two entire rooms this week without getting any paint on her, at all.  I gruffly stated that was not how I rolled.

The Visage My Wife Found So Amusing

So I got a lot done yesterday but somehow the day was gone by the time I had everything cleaned up.  The visit to the miracle lady will have to wait a little longer.