The Crowbar Incident. 

Yesterday morning my husband carried a crowbar into the kitchen and proceeded to tell me how to use it to take nails out of boards. 

You slide this end under the nail and pull back this way . . .”

I gave him that look I give people when they say something to me that I don’t understand (something so stupid that I have no idea why these words are coming out of their mouth).  I don’t mean to make a face. After 5 kids it comes naturally. And is why I have a deep groove between my eyes.

“Why are you showing me how to use a crowbar?”  I finally find polite words. 

It’s not a crowbar. It’s a flat bar” he says as though that explains why he’s giving me the Nail Pulling For Dummies talk. 

“You called it a “Wrecker” last week and it’s still a crowbar. And I know how to use one. Do you remember  that I told you last night that the boys and I spent an hour taking nails out of the old deck boards?  Did I show you the pile after you said you didn’t see it when you walked right by it?  Why are you showing ME how to use a crowbar?”

At which point he walked away. 

But seriously, does he think I pulled nails with my teeth?


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