Tuesday, December 8, 2009

Chore day disaster.

Ever hear of the self-fulfilling prophecy?

Basically it's the principle that if you are stupid enough to verbalize your fears or worst case scenarios for an event, they will inevitably come true. It's because you are an idiot. And the universe hates idiots.

Anyone remember my little post about what I predicted as the worst case scenario for me during Turkey Day prep? You know, the flying turkey and the dead chihuahuas? Yeah, that one.

Somewhere between the flying turkey and the dead chihuahuas was my air conditioner in the driveway.

Well, wouldn't you know it - today it happened! The air conditioner in the driveway part, that is.

Here's how it all played out:

I decide that today is cleaning day at my house. I decided this after my attempt to make today grocery day failed miserably.

And when I say failed miserably, I mean just that. In what I thought was a very covert maneuver, I drove MB to the grocery store on the way home from Indian food. Apparently, he's smarter than the average betrothed because he was on to me pretty quickly. I hadn't even made it to the 4way stop sign that everybody runs when he opened the door and tried to jump out!

Yes, he actually tried to jump out of a moving car in order to avoid going into the grocery store.

These are the lengths that he will go to in avoidance of this particular chore. He usually claims disability, saying that his self diagnosed social phobia prevents him from being around that many scumbags at one time. Today, he chooses to jump out of a moving car. Hey, at least he commits to his lies. That level of fabrication takes dedication people.

Anyway, after I conceded, cancelled grocery day, sped angrily home, slammed the door and threw down my purse, cleaning day officially commenced.

MB declared that the fighting was officially commencing, but I ignored him and told him what I wanted him to do instead. Sometimes I exert my womanly powers. Only when necessary.

What I was asking was not that bad. A simple task, really. Take the air conditioner units out of the windows.

It's a reasonable request. It's winter, for crying out loud. And the duct tape that's barely holding them in now isn't going to hold much longer.

After he swept the foyer and sorted the laundry and declared that he was now done with cleaning day, I again ignored him and redirected him back to the air conditioners.

The bedroom unit came out with no problems. Except for the fact that a family of spiders were evicted in the process (which I'm choosing not to think about so I don't have to sleep on the couch for the rest of my life) and now there are no blinds in the window.

I don't know exactly how this happened. All I know is there were a lot of loud, angry words and then blinds on the floor. I didn't ask too many questions.

After extracting the bedroom unit, he came into the kitchen. This one is a little trickier. It's much, much bigger and much, much more prone to falling out. There isn't even duct tape. Only masking tape. And most of the unit is teetering dangerously on the outside. With no brace. And no net.

He has suggested in the past that this is a two-three person job. Normally, I would agree. But my anger over the grocery store incident was clearly clouding my judgement. I wasn't about to let him avoid this chore. No way.

I offered to help after more loud and angry words began spewing from MB's mouth. Apparently, he disapproved of my masking tape job. That's what I interpreted from the cursing and muttering. Whatever. How else was I supposed to fill the gaps?

So, he is peeling away my tape when it happens. SPLAT!!! Just like that.

Of course, he is slightly pissed. And by slightly, I mean red and fuming.

Of course, I am laughing hysterically. Which he did not seem to appreciate. It's like he has no sense of humor anymore. It's sad really.

MB: (throwing his hands up) I'm officially done with chores. Forever.

Me: (still laughing) But we have to go get it.

MB: Get what?

Me: The air conditioner. You know, the major appliance you just dropped? (angry glares make me try and focus on the positive) It's still good. We can't just leave it there.

MB: What part of all this makes you think that thing is still any good? It just fell out of a second story window onto concrete.

Me: (as we walk outside to assess the damage) See, it's not so bad. Nothing a little duct tape can't fix (that's the hillbilly in me talking).

MB: (picking up various parts of what used to be the front of our ac from under the Jeep) Oh yeah, looks great. Should be fine (kicking the huge dent in the side for emphasis and showing me the wires hanging out of the front).

Me: Ok. Smartass. Well, what are we going to do with it, then?

MB: I'm done. It's staying right here for all I care (walking away because he's now officially done with chores. FOREVER.)

So, in addition to the overgrown flower boxes, sagging gutters, missing shutters and the dead tree in the front yard, we now have an air conditioner in the driveway. Yee haw!

My suggestions to drag it out to the curb for the trash company seemed to fall on deaf (and angry) ears. I think the ac may become a permanent part of our curb appeal. Until one of the neighbors decides to steal it. Or one of the cats decides to make a home out of it. Freakin cats.

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