Now before you go and get your undies in a bunch, let me assure you that you should not take my post title literally. I'm only out to entertain, not to offend. ;o) So let us begin...
I was sitting at my desk, minding my own business (literally, I do have online businesses that I must mind on a daily basis), when whom should appear in my doorway? OK, yes, there's only one other person that lives in this house, so logic alone would dictate that it was most likely the Hubs. He was smiling, and leaning up against the door frame in his usual I'm-just-here-to-make-my-presence-known sort of way.
We chit-chatted for a moment, in our typical old married couple brand of shorthand. No need for small talk, right?
He said: Hey
I said: What?
(Let's face it: after 25 years of marriage, we can cut through most of the B.S. that couples of a younger generation so aptly call "conversation." As if.)
So then he says: Guess what I did today?
Again, my succinct and ever so appropriate reply: What?
And then he holds up his hand, which clearly is adorned with a freshly adhered band-aid, and wiggles his fingers. So I'm thinking, he must have gotten a splinter, or perhaps cut himself on something, or any other number of infinite possibilities when you're talking about a man who does plumbing and construction for a living.
But he says: I drilled a screw....into...my....finger.
Now as I'm picking my lower lip up off the floor, the Hubs proceeds to tell me that he not only drilled a screw...into his finger...but he drove it almost all the way in. And at this point, thinking that this story could certainly get no worse and in no way more disgusting (that was, as always, a lapse in my own judgment---it can always get worse!), well...
He says: It was really hard to get out too; I had to...unscrew it...all the way out!
Now he is standing there, smiling, through this entire narrative, people...calm as a cucumber and seemingly pleased as punch. While I, on the other hand, have covered my mouth with my hand, developed a severe case of the heebie jeebies, and seriously considered emptying the contents of my quivering stomach into the nearest trash receptacle!
It's the visual that kills me...the one I get in my head as he tells me the story, the one where I see him unscrewing a screw from the depth of his bleeding finger. It's G-R-O-S-S!
And that's the point. That's why he's smiling. For the effect that the story has on me. Just picture him: he has the screw in his hand. He's holding it up, and smiling at me. It just gives a whole new meaning to the phrase...
Wanna Screw?
And just as a final aside, after I typed that phrase, I decided to click on my Ask Edward widget while that question was still in my head (seemed appropriate at the time). Know what his reply was?
Keep dreaming. Not if I live a hundred thousand years.
Seriously, Edward. You know how to hurt a gal. Maybe it's time I switched to Team Jacob.
