Monday: Mr. G, honey was underneath his honking big desk reinventing the bookcase and asked me to fetch his shiny toolbox. I skipped to the basement from the second floor and grabbed his red box. Bloggers. It was heavy. As I was not so much skipping back to the second floor as huffing and hauling, I thought if I just spent 20 mins a day running up and down the stairs with this clunker, and then using it as a free weight for biceps curls and triceps kickbacks…
Let’s just say, I’d have my cardio and weight training covered. Then again, I might just have a big goose egg on my head.
Tuesday: Mr. G, honey was in our itty bitty powder room reinventing the toilet seat and asked me to please come downstairs. Just for a sec. Oh, boy. The shiny red toolbox was open on the floor in the hallway. Oh, boy times two. This powder room is seriously small. I’m not kidding. We put a half sink in there for safety reasons. Anyway, Mr. Tall needed a volunteer to get down on the floor on her back, shimmy between the wall and the toilet, arms over her head, knees raised. I know, you’re thinking this is sounding pretty sexy. Fuhgeddaboudit. Little plastics bolt thingies underneath the top of the toilet needed to be removed. It required small hands and big, clunky tools. After humming the theme to Rocky, I unbent and stumbled back to my office on the second floor.
Mr. G, honey — please go back to work, you adorable Man.