My mother called the other day to ask how Father’s Day went. She wanted to be sure I had properly honored the father of my children, my baby daddy, the king of the house, the primo rooster.
I was going to write my annual, beautiful, tear-inducing tribute to my husband on Father’s Day, but I was too tired. I was too tired because we spent Father’s Day doing what my husband wanted to do.
I spent two hours holding up a 60 foot gutter with my head.
First I would like to say, what the hell is up with the unigutter? I thought gutters came in sections. Sectional gutters. Pieces of gutter. And how did they get that 60 foot gutter to my house in one piece back in 1987? Did it come on the back of the truck with the rest of the house? When my husband asked me to hold up the gutter while he replaced the rotten wood behind it, I was all, are you crazy? Then Father’s Day rolled around and I had to do it. We put The Baby down for his nap, threatened The Boy with death if he climbed out the window and onto the roof with us and then we fixed that gutter.
That bad boy was heavy. I was holding it up with my hands but that was too hard. The Husband looked over and saw me balancing the 200 pound gutter up with my head.
D: Babe, it’ll take us 30 minutes tops.
30 minutes tops? 30 minutes. THIRTY MINUTES. I should have known better. I have done fix-it projects with his father. Time is suspended in this family. But I was all, it’s Father’s Day, whatever you say. I blame you, Mom. The replacement wood was 1/4 inch too long and suddenly I heard the miter saw revving up on the roof. My husband doesn’t mess around. Why carry those boards back down to cut when you can cut them on a 40 degree slope of a roof while your wife is holding up the gutter with her head?
My head now has a flat spot and I’m 3/4″ shorter. But by golly, that gutter got fixed for $16.27. I wonder if I could fix the A.C. for $16.27…