He gave me a tool bag last year for Christmas. Did he really think a pair of pliers, a screwdriver and a roll of duct tape was going to be enough to satisfy my urge to "fix" things without his assistance?
Apparently he still hasn't gotten over the misunderstanding we had on the difference between sprouts and baby trees. The last time I convinced him to let loose of a power tool, I may have gone a little crazy with the sawzall, a power tool with a saw blade sticking out of it. It wasn't like I did it on purpose, it just happened. Every time I successfully cut through a sprout, I went for something larger. Before I could restrain myself, the blade got stuck in the trunk of a small tree, which wasn't on the list to be cut down.
Thinking I only have a few weekends left of temperatures above freezing, I loaded up the golf cart with my tool bag and headed out to get rid of the shriveled up plants that insist on reminding me winter is coming soon. I'm pretty sure I have pre-cabin fever as I went outside at 10 a.m. and didn't come back in until it was time to start fixing dinner.
The cannas always grow, no matter the weather, but are a bit of a chore to cut down and then dig up. I tried cutting through the thick stalk with my garden shears and it just wasn't going to cut it – literally. He must have been on high alert, which I can't blame him, when I'm in this kind of cleaning up mode. As soon as I approached the workbench, he just happened to come outside and ask – too nonchalantly to convince me this was a coincidence – what I was up to.
I stated my case and instead of offering the sawzall, he suggested I stick to the mowing and he'd take care of removing the plants. I needed him to understand I wanted to cut down the plants, as part of my day's agenda, so the grass had time to dry before I started mowing. At least he knows that once I have a plan in mind, if someone or something makes me stray from what I expect to get done, I could very well take my frustration out by "fixing" something that doesn't need fixing.
It felt like Christmas morning when he pulled out the sawzall and plugged in the fully charged battery. I could tell by his hesitation he really didn't want to hand it over, but he did anyway. Just like always, I received a full set of instructions, which went in one ear and out the other – just like always. I could avoid a lot of apologies if I'd stop long enough to listen.
The sawzall worked like a charm and very quickly all of the canna stalks were cut up, as well as the nice plastic ground covering he had installed.
I wouldn't be a bit surprised if he gives me a hack saw for Christmas.
Sandy Turner lives in Independence. Email her at firstname.lastname@example.org