To Be Fair
The post below (whose "essential truth", as Dan Rather would put it, I stand behind), may very well give the wrong impression of my wife.
My wife is very, very pretty. She is also smart, top of her class in college and law school, an attorney for the U.S. Treasury Department. She has worked as a litigator for the IRS in bankruptcy court, and as a Special Assistant U.S. Attorney.
And, lest you think I pick on her, I should describe an incident where the shoe was on the other foot.
We have a baseball field, as I have written about before, down in Chatham County.
I had built, spending about $100 for materials, and three hours of sweaty time with a drill, saw, or hammer, a "nail drag", for smoothing out the infield. This was actually the second version, because the first was too light and flimsy.
The new version, about 200 pounds of wood, steel, and chain, was ready to go. I backed up the van, and hooked up. My wife was watching. "Do you know what you are doing?" she asked, encouragingly.
Grinding my teeth, I pressed the accelerator. Perhaps a little harder than necessary. As soon as the chain drew up taut, the nails dug into the clay and the whole front crosspiece (three 5 foot 2x10s, with 8 inch nails sticking out) snapped right off like a slingshot. The rest of the assembly splintered, because without the support of the front brace the weight was too much. And the chained/nailed/2x10s flipped up and put a huge bash in the back of the van. It sounded like a cannon. Or so the neighbors assured me later. Inside the van, I was deafened.
I opened the door, looked back at the wreckage.
Then, I looked over at the wife. She has her hands on her knees, and is laughing her head off. "Perfect!" she yelled over to me. "Good job! You should patent that design!"
So...don't be feeling sorry for my wife. She can take care of herself. That's all I'm saying. Feel free to feel sorry for me, however.