I forgot

Ya ever forget? Happened to me.*

I forgot that when I ask my husband to do something, he will do it. He will not only DO it, but he will do it above and beyond the minimum requirements. Usually this is wonderful, and even though it takes more time, I am usually very pleased with the results.

I asked him to see if he could get the dish set up so my mom could have TV in her room. I mentioned it last night. Today he made a trip out to Menard's (for those who don't know, Menard's is a huge Home Depot. Lowe's type of place up here in the North) and he came home with a spool of cable and a bunch of little clipper things, and proceeded to ask me to assist him.

His plan was simple (HA) He wanted to redo the entire thing. There are (with my Mom's) 3 televisions in the house with a dish receiver. The box thing that connected all three cables to the dish were right next to the dish, on the roof.

Now, we live in a single story, finished basement house. It is not high. It IS a real P.I.T.A. to get up on the roof, but not as bad as it could be, if say, we had a big ol' two story farm house or something!

So he did the basement work, he is going to move that connector box into the basement, for easier access. I can see the logic in that, I guess. He got all the wires done downstairs and shoved through a hole in the side of the house. Then he asked for me to help him get up to the roof, and be available to hand him (read: throw up at him...hehehe) tools.

But first we had to get his ass up on the roof. We have a rickety old wooden ladder (note to self, go to Menard's TOMORROW and buy a new damn ladder!) He got up on the ladder to the last "safe according to the manufacturer" step, and then he asked me to hold it to steady it so he could go up the last two steps against the manufacturer's recommendation so he could haul himself up on the roof of the sun porch. So I did that.

And he kicked me in the face.
Full side of foot (and he's got big feet, normally I consider that to be a good omen, but not tonight!) making contact with my nose, my left cheek and jawline (smashing still-tender cheeks into metal) and oh, let's not forget smashing my glasses INTO my eye socket. IN TO the eye socket.

And as I gasp and pull backwards (but not letting go of the ladder, because I love him and do not wish any harm to come to him) I hear him say, as he finishes the haul of his body

"Did I just kick you?"

@#%%U&#!@!*&

I mean, um, yes honey, you did. Don't worry about me, I'm fine.

To play my own devil's advocate, if not for him being here (and kicking me) then I would be the one up on the roof not knowing what the hell I'm doing. At least he knows. I am not complaining about him doing stuff. Not at all. I am just stating the fact that I forgot HOW he gets things done.





*quote from Ron White