So yesterday, in betwixt other sorted odds and ends, the GC and I went out to work in the yard. (This is really how things have been going here. There has been so much to do, that the GC overloads. Seriously. She seems to have organizational ADD with added Hormones! We unpack a couple of boxes, and then happen to mention something about a kitchen, and then she's off making our make-shift kitchen. Then we're unpacking in the bedroom, and whoosh, she's off to the carport, moving furniture. Instead of room-by-room, which is what I thought the organization fiend Charmaine would do, we are getting a blurring of GC. Fun filled.)
Well, in the midst of one of this hairpin changes, the GC states that she wants to do some yardwork. So she's off... whoosh... to the yard. Weed wacker, rake, edger, and mower all in tow. I dutifully drudge out there to help her.
Er... what are you doing?!?!?!
Well, babe, I was going to help you do some yardwork?
Um, no!!!
Why?
Look at your finger! You can't get that infected!!! Your hands are too valuable!
But? Come on, babe. um... We live in a world of antibiotics! I can beat any infection. ... I stammer on with some other incoherent babbling.
Nope. N-O. You won't let me on the ladder. I won't let you do this!
Damn. Great. I didn't know what to do. So I stood there and watched. Swept and raked a little when she wasn't watching. But damn, she had 4 eyes in the back of her head!
So there I was watching my wife do yardwork pregnant! As she was mowing the lawn, some of our neighbors drove by, with disapproving looks. I did the only thing I could think of, I wave and pointed to my finger! I tried to mouth "I'm wounded", but they didn't buy it.
Great! Here I was ... a young strapping Spanish doctor, son of a strapping Spanish doctor, who was watching his young, beautiful pregnant wife piddle around mowing the lawn... all due to saving the precious hands.
Wait a minute!
I've heard this story before!!!
Damn, That's 3!
Like Father, Like Son
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