So my poor hubby is suffering from severe allergies right now. He always is stuffy, sneezey, etc. but it is out of control right now. He sneezed about 800 times (OK, that may be an exaggeration but at least 50) yesterday. So much so that Miles kept going, “Achoo daddy, achoo!”
I think it stung being mocked by a nearly 2-year-old.
He was sneezing so much that I was getting annoyed. I know, completely unfair, but I did realize that if his sneezing was so excessive that it was frustrating me that it had to be completely unhinging him, the person who was dealing with the head snapping sneezes every two minutes.
So being the nice and considerate wife I am, I told him I would mow the yard. There was no reason for him to do that (the equivalent of taking a shower in all the junk you are allergic to.) Without saying anything I grab the key to our tiny little outside storage shed/room. It is about a foot off the ground.
I unlock the door and start my game of reverse Tetris. (Seriously it is a tiny room and we have too much crap!) I unbury the lawn mower and start to pull back on it to get it out of the shed. It sticks on something at the door and I tug even harder.
Bam; it slams to the concrete and on top of my right foot that I’d moved forward to get a little more momentum.
Miles was well out of the direct path of the mower, but not so much from my not so PG word choices. Good thing he hasn’t repeated any of those yet!
After I realized my foot was still attached (thank goodness this was just the metal frame of the mower and not the blades) and I was done hopping around I realized I couldn’t reassemble the handle. (I’m telling you, it is a tiny room.)
I go inside and ask Michael for help. He huffs and puffs.
“YOU ARE NOT DOING THAT LAWN!” he grumbles.
“Why not? I can do it. I’m more than capable,” I shoot back.
This goes on for several minutes him citing the fact that it is difficult, dangerous (flying debris), his job and that out of the two of us he’s the one without a Pacemaker.
I responded with things like, “how do you think I did this before we got together?” “I’m more than capable” and “I’m just trying to do something nice for you!”
He finally gave up.
I hadn’t yet told him that Id lost all feeling in my right foot due to dropping the mower on it (giving his “it’s dangerous” point some creedence.)
So I mow the lawn, I didn’t lose a toe, pass out or break a window with flying rocks.
It wasn’t about proving a point, showing my toughness or independence or showing off. I was just trying to be nice.
Why is it so hard to be nice sometime? I’m the same way, making it difficult for Michael to do nice things for me sometimes. I know other couples do the same. Why is that? Have you learned to just smile and say, “Thank you”?
Also, my foot really hurts. He may have won this round!