AUTHOR: Sean Savage | POSTED: November 27, 2010 | COMMENTS: 3 Comments
CATEGORIES: Daddy on The Fly, Holidays, Pre-2/16 & Post-2/16, Tags: ask for help, holy sh*t, leaky toilet, Thanksgiving
I’d be willing to testify under oath that I did not in fact have a gun to Carolyn’s head while she typed those sacred words: “Sean is right.”
Had she repeated it 100 times, then that’d be a sure sign that I might have… But what a fine entry that would have been.
In an effort at full disclosure, my lips have received almost no training forming the words,” Carolyn, you are right and I am wrong,” Even if I am thinking it, normally what comes out of my mouth is “blah blah blah” or “whatever.”
As we move through the holidays and into the New Year, my resolution may be to speak those words more often, but then again…maybe not (for the maybe, maybe not story please refer to our book).
Speaking of holidays, ours got off on an interesting note. Based on a couple of issues from an Oct. check up, my doctor recommended I have a colonoscopy. I am 40, and have never had a serious medical procedure before, so I had not ramped up on all of the details about the colonoscopy procedure and what I needed to do leading up to it. I agreed in perfect ignorance to a colonoscopy at 9:30 A.M. on the Tuesday before Thanksgiving. (Thank goodness it wasn’t the Friday after Thanksgiving.) After following protocol and ingesting fourteen years worth of Metamucil in ninety minutes I thought I was going to die. Holy sh*t…literally. Why I voluntarily consented to not eat for thirty six hours, lose six pounds, and get “scoped” is beyond me. Gastrointestinal doctors moved up my list of the top ten professions with the greatest sales people. My colonoscopy (which turned out fine) isn’t the real story here. Because I was woozy from medication, I was required to get a ride home and Carolyn eagerly volunteered to drive me home.
Carolyn dropped me off at home and left to go grocery store shopping as we were now T minus twenty-four hours until we were invaded by her side of the family from various parts of the Midwest for a long Thanksgiving weekend. I walked in the house and noticed something that did not seem quite right. Our family room ceiling was leaking like a faucet onto the carpet below. The visions of my cocktail nap disappeared in a heartbeat and I was swept into action.
The first decision I made was to get a full assessment before calling Carolyn. I grabbed a bucket and placed it underneath the leak and then decided to locate its source. As I took the last step going from our bedroom to the master bathroom I felt the “squish” of soaked carpet–so not good. My next step is into two inches of water. Really not good. I look to our toilet and see water spilling over the edge. Holy sh*t…literally. With the ease and speed of a plumber (not) I turned the source of the water off and trudged to the basement to get the wet vac and starting sucking water up at an alarming rate while once in awhile glancing over at the bed–with longing–wondering what it would have been like to be sleeping at that moment. I began to wonder if the colonoscopy would be the highlight of my day. As I prepared to call Carolyn to tell her that we have a real problem I knew it was not a REAL PROBLEM. I stood in that same spot just twenty months ago when I introduced Carolyn to a REAL PROBLEM. More on that in the coming weeks.
I knew I had reached the limit of my ability to deal with this disaster. There is one handy person in our marriage and that person is referred to by our children as ……….mom. OK, I’ve said it and feel bad if my image in any of your eyes has been damaged by this admission. Carolyn knows how to paint, repair, do electrical, etc. I know how to call a repair person. I then dialed the number of our repair person: Carolyn.