I’ve been fired from many a Lovely Assistant job by him because he didn’t have the time or inclination to answer the questions I’d posed. Usually after he’s yelled at me about my inability to just stand there and hold the stupid thing I’m supposed to hold and why don’t I just trust him and know he’s already planned the whole thing out and the time he’s taking to answer the questions is eating into the project time and if he weren’t answering them, we’d be done and could I just get out of here and go away? GO AWAY!
After ten years together - nine years of marriage, seven years of questions during our first house remodel and a year an a half of questions on this house remodel - I’ve been replaced as Lovely Assistant by his friend, Sam (Not his real name. I don't want it to get out that he's useful and lose him.). Sam because, and I quote, “Sam is the perfect assistant. Sam doesn’t ask questions.” And he’s right. Sam doesn’t ask questions. Sam just does what Husband says no matter how bizarre the assignment might be. Sam just chats about this and that and follows Husband wherever Husband wanders to and holds whatever Husband tells him to hold for as long as he tells him to hold it with a smile on his face and not an ounce of bitter judgement.
I love Sam but not as much as Husband loves Sam.
Saturday, the Mom and I were hanging out on the couch talking about possible gardening projects. I mentioned the pile of bricks we could turn into a path as long as we saved a few for the upcoming Kitchen Deck project.
MOM: What is the brick for?
ME: At some point, we’re going to tear down the kitchen deck, the one falling down the hill, and build a new one. The bricks are to put on the sides to match the house.
What followed was more than FIFTEEN minutes of questions from the Mom about the Kitchen Deck project; How were we building the deck? Why we were using the brick to face it? What we’d be walking on? Why we were rebuilding it? What were we making the floor out of? Why? What was holding up the floor? Why the cinder block? Why the brick? What were we going to do with the space under the deck? How would we access it? Why would we do it that way? Why the deck in the first place? Why? Why? Why?
Until I screamed at her that this stupid project wasn’t happening for years and years and it was almost a hundred percent likely that someone else was going to build it, IF it did indeed get built in the first place and that it really didn’t matter what we were going to do with the brick years from now or how the floor was going to be held up because we’d been talking about a stupid path made out of bricks and that I didn’t want to talk about it anymore… and then I fired her from the conversation.