Lightly tapping a hammer was one way to completely command Joe’s attention.
My way of hanging a picture: Determine where you want to hang it.
- Grab a hammer, a nail, or one of those picture doo hickies.
- Hang picture.
- If you make a mistake, fill the hole with a little toothpaste and try again. Or if the picture covers the extra holes, don’t worry about filling them.
Joe’s way of hanging a picture:
- Procrastinate for several years or until your wife picks up a hammer and starts the job herself.
- Argue with wife about where to hang the picture even though you ultimately know the picture will be hung where she wants it to hang.
- Look for a hammer. Have a giant fit while accusing wife of throwing out the hammer you wanted to use.
- Argue that the point is not that you have several thousand hammers. The point is you are looking for the one hammer you are sure she threw out.
- Look for level. Have a giant fit when you can’t find the level and accuse wife of throwing it out.
- Wonder why things are never where you put them.
- Throw your hands up in exasperation when wife points out the last place she remembers seeing the level was in the middle of the dining room table.
- Storm out in a huff to go to The Home Depot. Return three hours later with a Starbucks.
- Take Starbucks and go upstairs to watch a ball game.
- Come down two hours later to fix a sandwich. Catch wife starting to hang picture. Yell, “I TOLD YOU I WOULD HANG THE PICTURE!”
Cole bought a chin up bar that hangs across the doorframe. I had no idea it required tools to hang it until Cole casually walked by me with a drill and a good electrician tool belt. Because it’s what mothers are required to do, I asked,
“Cole, do you have any idea how to use a drill?”
“I think so. It might take me more than one try though.”
I noticed Cole starting the project without a measuring tape or level. The thought crossed my mind, “Where are the directions?” and then I smiled.
Of course, Joe never failed to appear at the first sign of a tool being used without his direction. If I so much as picked up a screwdriver while he was at work, he would call me and ask, “What are you doing?”
Katybeth – Tell Cole he needs a measuring tape. I’m not sure he read the directions. Does he know if all the pieces are there? Wait! Is that the right drill bit?
Ignore! (Insert evil laugh) I asked out loud, “Cole, you think hanging the chin up bar might take you more than one try? We might have holes in the door frame?”
“Well, Mom, if we do, the bar ends might cover them.”
I looked upward and stuck out my tongue. Revenge for all the “I-will-do-tomorrow” projects left undone.
“Ok, honey. Drill away.” Smiling smugly, I walked away, listening to the drill humming and the mutterings of Joe’s frustration.
The drilling came to an abrupt halt. Oops … I forgot. God hates smug.
“Mom? Where is the hammer?”
“In the tool drawer, Cole.” Rustling, muttering, slamming.
Cole walked out with what appeared to be a hammer, showed it to me and said, “Not THIS HAMMER, MOM! THE OTHER HAMMER!! YOU ALWAYS PUT THINGS AWAY WHERE I CAN’T FIND THEM.”
Stop laughing Joe.
The picture is crocked the bar is straight! Really.