Spontaneous and Alcohol-Induced Home Improvement Projects

Girls like to say that they want spontaneity in their relationship. They want their man to surprise them with fun and exciting things. My man is very spontaneous. So spontaneous that he decided Monday that WE needed to retile our kitchen, which WE did into the wee hours of the morning despite the fact that I had to get up early and HE didn't.

Let me back up.
A couple of months ago, our fridge leaked water underneath our laminate wood flooring, ruining it. The ruined planks have been pulled up for a while as we figured out what we wanted to replace it with, deciding eventually on slate tile. I figured we'd eventually make a trip to the home improvement store and together buy the supplies. We would then spend a weekend putting it all together. Nope. I came home from work on Monday to a drunk Sam who demanded I change clothes and take him to the store, he needed a different blade for the table saw. I was a bit taken aback, possibly because he had woken me up at 5am that morning to help him look for his wallet that he had to left in our bedroom. I politely inquired as to whether he might have left it at work. Nope, he never does that. After fruitless searching, he left to get to his unforgivably early meeting at work...where he found his wallet. Anyway, to my sleep deprived amazement after being told to change clothes, I saw that he he been very, very busy. The remaining damaged laminate flooring had been pulled up and the damaged planks that extended past the kitchen had been replaced, leaving the kitchen floor bare and clean, ready for new tile. Around the corner was a pile of slate tile and other tile supplies. Alcohol and/or taking showers brings out his creative-thinking process. I've told him that whenever we get around to designing and building our future home, I'm going to keep bringing home booze and encouraging him to shower. Hopefully, his liver will be able to take it. He's of Scottish ancestry, so he should.

Anyway, I drove my slurring husband to the store to get a new blade, he did some alcohol-induced ranting about stupid drivers. Admittedly, sober or drunk, we both ranted about stupid drivers. Atlanta is full of them. So we returned with the new blade and got to work. Sam had never tiled before with slate but he never lets inexperience intimidate him, he just pushes forward and does it. It's one of the most amazing things about him. I get intimidated by not knowing, I let my inexperience and fear paralyze me from even trying. I have a huge fear of failure that has always kept me back. But not Sam. He embraces it. And I love that!

So by the time midnight rolled around, our neighbors hated us from the constant sound of a table saw (that eventually broke), we were covered head to toe in dust, and the floor was almost completely tiled.

My Dogs don't like Jehovah's Witnesses

My dogs do not like Jehovah's Witnesses. Thank God, cause I don't either. Actually I don't really care much for anybody that promotes their religious beliefs by showing up at my door while I'm just trying to watch TV braless and wearing pajama bottoms at 2pm on a Saturday. Unfortunately, you can see the couch from our front door so me running away is clearly viewable. Fortunately, Bruce and Willa can sense them before they get to the door, so I have time to flee and hide. Bruce and Willa throw a barking fit at the door, looking very intimidating and the JoHo's (as my college buddy, Ott, used to refer to them) go away. But they love our neighborhood and keep coming back! This is also annoying because Sam sleeps during the day and they've woken him up several times. Or we just find their pamphlets stuck in the door. Look, nothing anybody says is going to sway my view on religion. Nothing. My beliefs are my own and I'm fortunate my parents promoted free thinking about politics and religion. Their lack of pushing is probably the only reason I still believe in God. My personality hates authority and being told what to do or what to believe in and most of my friends that had pushy religious crazy parents ended up atheists or married early so they could have guilt-free sex. Because of my parents, I believe in God and have all the guilt-free sex I want...with my husband. But if I wasn't married, I know that making the adult decision to have sex regardless of marital sex, isn't going to send me to hell. Besides. if all the sluts and gays and fun people are going to hell and the virginal, saintly folks are going to heaven...then hell sounds like the place to be. I'd rather be with my gay friends then stuck on a cloud with stuck-up Christians discussing sweaters and tupperware. Anyway, I got off topic...where was I....JoHos!
I'm thinking about making a sign for my door that says:

BEWARE ALL YE WHO DARE KNOCK OR HIT THE DOORBELL:
This house is occupied by a grumpy man who sleeps during the day, a belligerent woman, a cat with an attitude problem, and two pit-bulls who love the taste of  Jehovah's Witnesses, Salespeople, and Robbers. Thank you and have a lovely day bothering someone else.

Beat's the hell out of a welcome mat. Here's a picture of Willa chewing up a JoHo pamphlet. I was about to stop her until I realized what it was...then I pat her on the head, told her she was a good girl, and let her continue shredding it.