Paint fumes
All the recent rain has given us an honest-to-God pond.
Time to start thinking about ducks and geese, I reckon.
“Let’s try to expedite this trip,” I said to Robyn as we walked across the wet parking lot. “We can get them started keying the deadbolt and mixing the paint before we get the other stuff on the list, and save some time.”
I’m like that when I go places. I think of ways to combine tasks in ways to save time. Probably it’s annoying, but it’s the way I am. God knows I already spend enough time in Lowe’s. If I can save a few minutes by doing things in parallel instead of serially, then I’m all for it.
Inside the megastore, I made a beeline to the locks to find a deadbolt for the door leading into the Smallville garage. Robyn trailed behind me, as she often does when we’re at Lowe’s together. I think maybe the concentration of testosterone there is like kryptonite for women, or something, because it seems to affect them all in a similar manner.
It took me a few minutes to find the right kind of deadbolt. Because the door has glass panes, it would be foolish to get a deadbolt with a knob on the inside side, because all a walkin’ dude thief would have to do is break a pane and reach through to unlock the deadbolt. I wanted one that required a key on both sides. After all, we’re planning on moving everything to the garage while the floors are refinished in a couple of weeks. Might as well make it harder to get to.
Finally, I found the lock I wanted and got someone started with the keying. Robyn wandered around during all this, checking out the magazines and books, which made me try to hurry even more. As she’ll freely admit, when she’s bored in Lowe’s she starts spending money.
“Let’s go get them started on the paint,” I said, and strode off in the direction of the paint counter.
Robyn strolled behind, taking her time.
When the assistant came over to see what I needed, I handed him the paint-stained lid I’d brought in with me that sported a label denoting the exact color and mix of paint the can had held. The front room required two coats of paint to cover the original off-yellow, and the two gallons I originally bought weren’t enough.
“Hi,” I said, and held out the lid. Robyn shuffled up next to me. “I need to get a—”
A cloud of stink so fetid and pungent it was nearly visible swept over me, cutting me off mid-sentence. It was the sort of stink powerful enough to peel paint, burn nose-hairs, and melt eyeballs. Sort of a mix between feces, skunk, and rotting eggs, with a slight undercurrent of something spicy, like cumin or chili powder.
A smell that, after ten years with the same woman in my life, was distinctly familiar.
I turned to Robyn, my eyes wide with horror.
She grinned at me like an egg-sucking dog and scurried off, leaving me alone with the paint guy, who stood patiently waiting for me to finish.
“Sorry,” I said. “I need to get one gallon of this, in the Signature—”
I could tell exactly when it reached him, because he flinched away from me. His nose wrinkled in disgust, and his eyes flashed at me in silent accusation.
It wasn’t me! I wanted to shout. It was her! I know how to act in public! I wanted to point at the culprit, apologize for her crass behavior, and then melt into the floor at the embarrassment of marrying someone who would do such a thing in the middle of a store.
Instead, I just kept talking, my face on fire.
“—line. Matte finish, please.”
He looked like he was fighting back his gag reflex as he backed slowly away from me.
“That’s all?” he asked, his voice tight.
“That’s it,” I said, and beat a hasty exit.
I found Robyn down by the masking tape, bent over and shaking with laughter.
“Jesus Christ, Bessie,” I said. “How could you do that to me?”
“I’m sorry,” she wheezed. “There was no stopping it.”
“I’ll say. I can’t believe you left me there to take the fall for that.” Then, of course, I started laughing too, because I’m a mental infant.
“I thought it would dissipate,” she said. “I did it way back over by the locks.”
“You dragged that nasty thing all the way across Lowe’s?” I was incredulous. I couldn’t believe I didn’t hear the sounds of bodies dropping like flies in our wake. “And then you came over and slingshotted it…no, slingshitted it into me and the paint guy!”
“It’s not like you’ll have to see him again.”
“Yeah, not for at least ten minutes, when I have to go back over there and pick up the paint. He’s probably already telling people about the guy who shit his pants at the paint counter!”
I made her go pick the paint up when it was ready. That was the only fair thing to do.
More proof that we’re infantile adults who were made for each other:
Yesterday, we went to Outback for dinner for Robyn’s birthday. We were sitting there, kind of eavesdropping on the conversation going on between the couple at the table to my back. Right in the middle of a sentence about hunting deer, the man let out a long wet yarky-sounding burp that he used to segue into the next word of his sentence.
And we laughed uncontrollably about it for about five minutes, while the spud kept looking around and asking us what was so funny.
Thanks Fred. I needed a good laugh!
I’m sitting here at my desk howling from laughter. The guy in the next office wants to know what’s going on. Thanks for a great laugh today!
My husband does that to me all the time. Waits until he can scurry away quickly while people are coming up behind us and let’s it fly. I do not hesitate to tell them where it came from. Bastard.
“You dragged that nasty thing all the way across Lowe’s?”
That’s what we call “Crop Dusting!”
Thanks for the laugh
LMAO over here!!! This is SO my family, too!! In fact, this very thing has happened more than once. What cracks me up is “A smell that, after ten years with the same woman in my life, was distinctly familiar.” It’s true!! How sad is it that we know each other by our personal stench? I guess it just comes down to our animal origins, right?
Do you know how hard it is to get strawberry yogurt out of a keyboard?
Tears are rolling down my face here at work. I’m lucky I didn’t wet myself, I’m laughing so hard! Smells like you got yourself a great woman there Fred!
Oh my God!!!! Tears are streaming. I am laughing so hard at work people are wondering about me….. GO ROBYN!!!!!
I know some married couples who’ve never passed gas in front (or behind) each other! What’s that about? In a great marriage…everything should be shared. It’s an intimacy of sorts. My mother always said that I was the only person she’d ever known who could fart from one end of the house to the other. A fantastic accompllishment,that. Just eat lots of raw vegetables and you, too, can reach this distinguished level.
Thanks for the great afternoon laugh, Fred.
Some call this week “De-Lurking Week”. So here I am…delurking.
Hi.
laugh - this brings back memories. I can laugh now because I don’t have to endure it. The first 18 years I worked at the University of Illinois was in a building in the South Farms very near the sheep (cute but stinky) but most memorable, the hogs. On summer days I could drive to work perfectly happy in my car with the AC running full blast, open the car door to exit the vehicle only to have my eyes start to water and be unable to inhale. I learned to take a deep breath, open the door and run! I bet if the air had been tested it had to be close to illegal. Far worse than the duck farm we use to drive by when I was a kid and that was pretty bad! A baby swine is so adorable–who could imagine it would eventually produce such foul stuff. The truly funny thing is that the hogs are always indoors. I have always assumed the inside of their building is odor free.
Oh Lord! It took me 10 minutes to stop laughing. Sounds like something my husband would do to me!
Oh my god. You’ve got my other half and I in tears as well. Thank you very much. (And it’s nice to know, from your post and all the comments, that we are not alone!!)
oh my hell!! I needed that today!
I love your pond - it’s so peaceful.
Too funny! I’ll have to remember to pull that trick with my hubby sometime. *evil grin*
Re: people prowling around your Smallville house
Trapper and I had this problem when we lived in Five Points in Huntsville. Of course, it always happened when Trapper was out of town, and usually the people just came up to the door and announced that they were recently (as in, that day) released from jail, and did I have any cash I could give them? I thought we’d get away from that sort of thing by moving out to the “suburbs,” and then our next-door neighbors had their home broken into. (Trapper and I were home at the time and DIDN’T NOTICE. We’re the worst Neighborhood Watch EVER.) So I have just given up hope of escaping crime. Trapper and I don’t believe in personal gun ownership, but I’m petitioning in earnest for a Taser.
I grew up around Smallville, and my mom was a teacher there for years. Parts of it used to be quite scary, with drive-by shootings and other gang violence. It has really improved, to say the least. Not to mention that it’s such a pretty area.
LMFAO!!! THAT WAS HYSTERICAL!!!!
WTG ROBYN!!!
HA!!
*wipes away tears*
That was a beautiful entry.
You sure know how to tell a story Fred! Thankfully I had a towel handy to wipe my tears so I could continue reading. I like Robyn more and more all the time.
That was so funny, I’m wheezing from all the laughter!!!
“slingshitted” That’s funny right there, I don’t care who ya are!
STRING THEORY is a model of fundamental physics whose building blocks are one-dimensional extended objects (strings) rather than the zero-dimensional points (particles) that are the basis of the Standard Model of particle physics
SUPERSTRING THEORY is an attempt to explain all of the particles and fundamental forces of nature in one theory by modeling them as vibrations of tiny supersymmetric strings.
FART STRING THEORY is a scientific model which has proven that irrespective of velocity or distance traveled by the source of emission from the point of event origin after primary explosion, rectally expressed gaseous contaminant particles behave as a singular vibrating string which deposit identical “twin” or “child” pockets throughout the field of activity while also maintaining constant proximity to the source. The strength of both “parent” and “child” entities remain undiluted for a period time equal to the ratio of the quantity of particles to the relative humidity of the cloud multiplied exponentially by its backscatter coefficient.
Your description of Robyns fart just about describes sleeping next to my husband every night…melting eyeballs…how true!
“Backscatter” - LMFAO!!!!!!
My throat hurts from the laughing!
O.M.G! That was so so funny! “cropdusting” - Hee!
HAHA! It’s not often that I actually laugh out loud while reading something. That brought tears of laughter to my eyes! My husband wanted to know what was so funny from the next room.
I don’t believe Miz Robyn did that! You can’t tell me otherwise!
The whole story was hilarious, but what made ME laugh out loud was “the man let out a long wet yarky-sounding burp that he used to segue into the next word of his sentence”.
Is it wrong that I loved the sound of the word “yarky”??
You DO have a command of the English language, Fred!
OMG!! I’m dying over here! Robyn, you are a woman after my own heart! LOLOLOL Hysterical!
Lucky thing Robyns fart didnt deceive her …they are deceptive little things. Lurking about the stomach and intestines under the guise of a harmless (well sometimes harmless) fluffer only to rear the ugly head of liquid poop. Never trust a fart.
With regards to the pond. Chances are that the pond is a place a nice mallard duck couple already call home. Wait until the spring when love is in the air to see if they return. We had a duck pond and every single year the same duck couple came back to lay the eggs and bring up the ducklings. They were so fun to watch. We helped out with duck/bird food. When the babies were born every summer momma would parade her ducklings down near the deck to show them off!
And with regards to the mallards (if you have any or want to attract some), have you thought about a duck nesting box/house? I notice there’s a tree nearby.
Thanks, guys. I’m glad you get pleasure from my pain.
LJ, re: nesting boxes. Already in the works.
Thanks Fred, I need that laugh. Tears were streaming down my face. While reading all I could hear in the back of my head was, “We gotta move NOW.” which is what my husband and I will say when that type of thing happens. Although sometimes he’ll just give me a goofy grin and I know what he’s done so I’ll just move away as quickly as I can so I won’t be associated with him.
Ah, 12, such a fun age!
Ok I am ROFLMAO here. Loved this entry!