The tiger and the clothesline

GRIN # 310

Ah, what a weekend.

Thanksgiving was great, but truthfully we worked our tails off.

For Jerry’s business, Apex Autoworks, we enter a float every year in our town’s local Christmas Parade. It’s become tradition. And it’s our turn to host the after-party.

We got a lot done. Christmas is up, the garage is cleaned out, and we didn’t even argue that much.

Until I asked Jerry to hang a clothesline in the bonus room. I saw the idea in a magazine; it’s a way to display your kid’s artwork.

Jerry was instantly disgusted by this idea. He hates putting holes into the wall for any reason, but I could tell nailing up a clothesline might be his undoing.

He sighed so hard he almost shuddered.

“Let me go get the ladder AND the stud-finder,” he said.

“We’re just hanging paper. It doesn’t need to be in a stud.”

“Paper is a lot heavier than you think!” he heaved. “Do you think a nail is just going to stick into the sheetrock?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Noooo,” he said, stomping down the stairs.

“Mom, why is dad so mad?” Tyler asked.

I waved him off. “Dad just gets this way when he has to hang something. He’ll be okay in a little bit.”

And he was. Two hours later Jerry was eating more corn pudding (the dish that never made it to Thanksgiving), with a giant glop of my not-so-easy minestrone on top.

He has officially finished the whole crockpot of soup and a nearly 10-pound tray of a double-recipe of corn pudding. Despite his anti-hanging tendencies, I really did marry a good man.

This weekend, I fed the Tiger and made it hang a clothesline.

The fact that the ladder is still in the bonus room is incidental.

Patience, grasshopper.

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