While Husband was at cardio rehab exercise class this morning I was doing my own exercise: cleaning the bathroom. When all you do is wash in a sink how does it get dirty?
When he came home I said, 'A thought occurred to me.'
He said, 'Oh no,' and disappeared into the other room.
He wasn't getting away that easily; I followed him. 'I had an idea.'
Husband sighed.
'I thought as we're using bathroom paint for those two little bits of wall in the bedroom you could paint the bathroom with the rest.'
Such good ideas I have when I'm cleaning. His response was less enthusiastic than I might have hoped ...
Still I think he owes me.
I got home the other afternoon and he called me, 'Can you come here? I need your help.'
I was wary as previously he's needed help to shift a wardrobe or catch a falling tree but I did as requested.
'You'll have to do your Doc Martin bit,' he said. (For those who don't know Doc Martin is a television doctor who can't stand the sight of blood. Like me.) (The blood bit. I don't have a secret life as a television doctor.)
Husband had cut his leg and as he's on blood thinning medication he bleeds a lot. Oh, you'd have been proud of me. I didn't even come over queasy. Admittedly he had a wad of paper pressed on the cut and I just had to tape that in place.
Even the next day I was terribly brave in dressing it. (It was much less severe than I'd imagined. Isn't that usually the case? Things are so much worse in your imagination.)
So sticking on a bit of tape = painting the bathroom. Seems fair to me.
6 comments:
I thought Doc Martin were your boots ????
I'm quite cheerful about other people's blood in moderation. Less keen on vomiting … mine or other peoples.
I’d take the blood any day to the painting!
DEFINITELY equal!
No, Stu, they're Doc Marten's.
Don't like vomiting either, Sonata. Or too much poo either!
As it turned out, yes, me too, Marie. Husband won't let me paint. He says I don't do a good job.
I thought so, Debra.
Over the years I've done quite a bit of painting - interior and exterior - starting at age 12 and (hopefully) ending at age 75. However, I've aged to the point that I don't intend to paint any more than touch-ups for the remainder of my life. Hunky Husband isn't into home maintenance, at all. He runs the vacuum on the upstairs carpeting, does the wash & ironing, makes his bed each morning, clears the table whenever it is used (he normally eats in front of his TV) and, does the grocery shopping. With that, I'm content. (Well, he also reaches things that are too high for me to reach, loosens jar lids, and screws/unscrews fasteners that I lack the strength to handle.) I like having him around!
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