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Cheryl Hughes: Irritants

On Friday after work, Garey came home to take a shower, while I finished up the day’s paper work at our shop.  Garey always turns on the faucet in the tub before he actually gets into the tub—it’s important that you know that.  On Friday, he turned on the tub faucet then immediately yelled, “I’m gonna whip somebody!”  Our granddaughter, Sabria, who was watching TV in a room nearby yelled back, “It wasn’t me!”  I know about this yelling back and forth because it was related to me by both of them after I got home.

                It seems I, not only left the shower head hanging in the tub after Sabria and I finished showering, but I also left it pointed away from the shower wall and toward the open room, and to add insult to injury, I accidentally left that little valve thing pulled up so that the water shot out of the shower head and sprayed Garey, the floor, the walls, the sink and the commode before Garey could wrestle it into submission.

                What is so crazy about the whole situation is that I never do anything like that.  I don’t leave the little valve pulled up, because it drives me crazy when Garey leaves it up, and I climb unsuspectingly into the tub, turn on the faucet and get a blast of water to the face.  Occasionally, if I help Sabria wash her hair, I might leave the shower head hanging in the tub without placing it back into the holder, but I don’t purposely turn the spray nozzle away from the shower wall and aim it at the floor, the walls, the sink and the commode.  My only defense is I was in a hurry to get Sabria cleaned up and to the store to buy her mom a birthday gift before I had to meet Garey to hand her off in order to do the paper work for the day, while he and Sabria went back to our house, so he could get cleaned up, and we could go out for dinner.  (I had taken the day off, because Sabria goes to a Warren County school now, and they got an extra day for fall break.)

                The next day, Saturday, Garey and I went straight to the garden after work—we work until 12 noon on Saturdays—because we had to remove the deer netting from our two rows of sweet potatoes and weed-eat the vines, so they will be ready to dig on the next dry day.  It was very tedious, very hard work.  The rows are very long, and after we removed the netting, I had to stand on it while Garey rolled it up.  We work well together, and we always engage in interesting conversation as we work.   As I was standing on one end of the netting, I noticed some fishing line hanging from an oak tree.

                “Why is there fishing line in this tree?” I asked.

                “That’s where I hung aluminum pie pans to scare away the deer,” he said.

                “Did it work?” I asked.

                “If it had, do you think we’d be wallowing this net around?” he asked.

                “I guess it was about as effective as my hanging all those bars of Irish Spring soap around the fence line,” I said.

                “I suspect all that happened is the deer took a shower with the soap and made sweet potato pie with the pie pans,” Garey said.  (He’s probably right.  They sure weren’t deterred by the items.)

                We finished rolling up the netting then started with the weed-eating.  Garey took one side of the row and I took the other.  It was hot, dirty work.  Vines and grass and dirt flew everywhere, especially into our faces and hair.  When we finished the job, we headed to the house, where Garey decided to jump into the shower first, so he could go down to our work and make sure everything was okay with the automatic wash. 

                He turned on the water and yelled, “Cheryl Hughes!  I can’t believe you left the shower head turned away from the tub again!”  (I had taken a shower that morning.)

                “I didn’t leave the shower head turned away from the tub,” I protested, “I made sure it was turned toward the shower wall and the little thing was pushed down.”

                “I guess somebody broke into the house and turned it around while we were in the garden weed-eating,” Garey said.

                “Well, somebody must have, because I didn’t do it!” I said back.

                I could tell he didn’t believe me, but I remember making sure everything was in the right direction before I climbed out of the tub that morning…I think…I’m almost sure I did.  Maybe I just need to start using the guest bathroom.  Nobody else is using it, and it’s cheaper than marriage counseling.

               

 

               

               

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