Mel and I clashed this weekend over chores. I am in boat mode, she in house mode. Sadly, the dishwasher incident is the least of our worries.
Mel has visions of cutting down trees (and quite possibly maiming myself in the process), raking, hauling, white washing fences, re-doing the deck yet again, painting the shed...the list goes on.
My list is work on boat. I've got sanding, draining, replacing fuel lines, painting, varnishing, and generally sitting on boat making myself feel good about sitting on a boat.
So, as is tradition, Mel gets her way. I clear my Sunday and succomb to her nesting wishes. She decides we need to borrow my old truck and steal a ladder. My parents were in the city, and let us know where the truck was. Fantastic.
We drop off our car and swap for the truck. Mel texts my Dad letting him knows where we stashed the key.
Off to their house to boost the ladder. Only, there is an open house going on (house still not sold), there is the broker and a horde of people tracking mud into the house. I should mention at this point, it was colder than Mel or I expected. So we had to emergency layer and as a result look like homeless ruffians.
I announce Mel should go distract the realtor while I steal the ladder out from under them. Quite literally as the ladder hangs on a hook under the deck. As I stealthily move under the deck, potential buyers are walking around above me. I hear "ooh look at the river views". Tourists.
I quietly unhook the aluminum ladder and take off like a shot for the truck we parked just a little down the street. Interesting side note: the truck is such an eyesore, my Dad moves it every time they show the house as it would detract value.
As I am on the run, I hear "hey that guy is stealing a ladder". I look for Mel and she is waiting by the truck. "Did you talk to the realtor?" I ask. She says yeah. We secure the ladder and peel out down the street, checking the review mirror for house shoppers who may have stumbled onto my Dad's gun collection (aka: the armory - he's got enough guns in there to stage a small ground war).
We do our chores and in the middle of the afternoon get a call from Dad, "where the hell is my truck???". He temporarily forgot what his text annoucement sounds like on his phone. He thought it was someone elses on the train. hee hee.
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