Another incident occurred during our days of Yard Work.
I do not really wish to share it, to confess my sins, but, I must. I feel compelled to purge my demons onto you, my faithful readers.
It happened innocently enough. I had the hedge trimmers and was cutting off some dead branches of the little mini-tree thing next to our front door. Snip, snip. It looked so much better! So I cut a little more. And a little more. I was like a woman possessed! The clippers had a mind of their own! I was no longer in control of my actions as the trimmers edged up the side of the little tree - until - Harry caught me in mid-snip.
"What the hell are you doing!" he yelled.
"Trimming." I said, timidly.
"You've butchered it!"
"No, I haven't!" I stood up and collected some of the branches from the ground. Then I started stuffing them back into the lopsided tree. "See? All better!"
"We'll have to take it out," he said, speaking like a surgeon to a future amputee.
"No." I said.
"NO! And WHATEVER! I was ONLY trying to HELP!" I took off my gloves in a flurry of leather and cotton and flung them up in the air. "FINE!" I bellowed at him and picked up the jar of "Shake-n-Feed," "YOU do it! YOU don't need my help!" I tossed the jar at him and watched as the little green pellets soared through the air and landed like a rotten tambourine at his feet.
Then, tantrum having commenced in plain view of all our "normal" neighbors, I turned, pouted and stomped past the lopsided tree and into the house, slamming the door for emphasis.
"Hey!" Harry came in a few minutes later to find me, red-faced and fuming sitting at the kitchen table. I expect him to chew me out. To tell me I was being a brat and a princess and to get my ass back out in the yard to help. Instead he pats my head and says "Wanna go to Lowe's?"
I love my husband almost as much as I hate Yard Work!