If I need to remove a screw, and ask Hubby will he get me a screwdriver, he will ask, “Phillips or Flat? What size?” I look at him dumbfounded. We’ve been through this discussion a thousand times. Butter knives come in one size fits all, and they are all flat. Just get me one so I can remove this screw.
He tells me I am going to electrocute myself. Now I am 43 years old and have been using a butter knife to remove screws since I was five. First off, I am smart enough to not stick my knife in a light socket, and secondly, I know where the freaking fuse box is.
Back when we were newly married, when ironing his underwear was still romantic, and I would have never dreamed on turning on the water works, we bought our first house.
We moved in with little fan fare and began unpacking. I decorated the bedroom and called Hubby to put up a shelf. “But that will require nails”, he exclaimed in horror. “Yes,” I replied, “It will.” But that will cause holes in the walls” at which point he grabbed his chest like Fred Sanford and started staggering out of the room.
For the next few years we lived happily in the little house and every time I would walk by the dresser I would fume. There was my little shelf and the picture I wanted hanging above it on the dresser, and above the dresser, the pristine wall, with no holes.
So one day, Hubby was at work. I got out my nails. I got out my pair of 5″ flats (in patent leather black, a woman must be classy about it, you know) and I put that shelf and that picture on the wall above the dresser. When I was done, I hung our wedding picture in the hall, and the just for spite took one nail and made a random hole beside it just for good measure.
Hubby came home, and saw the shelf and knew he’d been defeated. He said, “Where’d you find the hammer?” To which I replied, “Got it on sale at JCPenney’s last shoe sale. By the way, this weekend do you think we could go look at new silverware, I am out of screwdrivers.”