You know your wife is mad at you when you wake up to her taking a shower and then, as you flop down on the couch to rouse yourself with that first cup of coffee, she kisses the child and heads out the door. Hmmm, you think to yourself, I wonder when she will return? ...then you look over at the little one and she is in her pajamas. "Did you have breakfast, kid?" you ask, curious. "No."

It might have something to do with this:


It's the ceiling to the guest bedroom. Yesterday I was able to remove it and fit it into these two neat boxes, which I find to be a profound brainteaser -one that presses the boundaries of inter-dimensional physics. Anyway, I did it. It took most of the day and the sum of our house is the better for it, though it irritated Mrs. Ditchman. Seems we had a miscommunication. This was nearly resolved at my admittance of having my priorities out of whack. Perhaps I do. But in the end the garbage man will haul off the ceiling in the two boxes and the guest room won't have that vague smell of some now-distant former occupant who was never able to cure his chronic body odor.

My apologies to all my guests in the past few years who thought they noticed a smell, but didn't say anything. Bless you. I believe the smell was hiding in the ceiling, or perhaps the carpet. Anyway, both the floor and the ceiling are gone now and all that remains is the musty aroma of damp joint compound. An improvement, I say, as now it smells more like the vast hidden potential that lies within those walls.

It would be wrong of me to expound on the fine tunings of the Ditchman marriage here on this blog (especially when I have the other blog where I detail our sex life) but I will say how I would be a decrepit wretch without her. I know exactly where I would be, right now, too: I'd be in some coffee shop reading the newspaper stopping only to check out the next girl who walked in. I'd be full of strong opinions about things that really didn't matter, and I'd be writing them in my notebook -honing my verbiage with a vocabulary that cut like... ahh, forget it. Oh yeah?! Well, where would she be without me?

She'd be a successful business woman, no doubt. (I would have waited a few more years to marry her, but I knew she wouldn't have!)

So I scraped the ceiling and am pretty sore as a result. My wife returned an hour or so later and everyone had eaten and gotten dressed for the day, the dishes were done and the trash was out. I'm sure she had told me that she had some early appointment somewhere, but I think I'm still in Daddy mode from last week, and not back in my aluma-mode as usual. I'll bounce back. We have a bunch of heavy-duty jobs in the coming weeks and I am charged with blowing through them at full speed. I can't be stopped! Why, I'm remodeling the guest bedroom on the side!

I love you, honey!

P.S. Shame on all of you for clicking on that link.


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