On bathroom doors, wells and whiskey...

I don't know if it's true, but recently I saw a facebook post that PM Harper had a rough experience with a bathroom door on his recent trip south. And I read that he didn't handle it very prime ministerially. 

This brings to mind my own terrible, horrible, no good, (thank you, Judith Viorst) experience with a very bad day.  It was a lovely, sunny afternoon in the spruce forest where I live. The Man of My Dreams, hereafter known as MOMD, was building a badly-needed new cover over the well pit, and he was going to make it fancy with a little raised top that I could use as a potting table. The new cover was at my bidding. The fancy part was MOMD's idea. 

Since I had asked (okay, nagged) for him to do this work, I thought it would be a nice idea to offer to help out in some way. Realizing my limited talents, MOMD set me to taking off the hardware from an old school bathroom door.  Don't ask.  Just understand that MOMD's father used to go to a lot of auction sales. 

I set up in the yard and got busy with a screw driver. Not ten meters from me, MOMD was also busy with a power saw and hammer. As I recall, I paused to gaze lovingly at his back, causing me to lose my grip on my door. Causing the door to slip and fall on me, trapping me on the grass. Do you remember how heavy school bathroom doors are?  I could not move. 

I struggled briefly, to no avail. Then I hollered, "Help, MOMD, I am trapped by a bathroom door and can't move!" (or something like that), also to no avail. MOMD's back was to me and he was using his power saw. So I just kept hollering until he put the saw down, heard me and rescued me. My hero. 

Once freed, I decided that I was finished with bathroom doors, and would go over to watch the well top construction project, which seemed to be coming along beautifully, with little pickets already in place along one side. As I recall, it started to go badly when MOMD paused in his work to gaze lovingly at me, causing him to lose his balance at the edge of the well pit. Causing him to slip into the pit, and soak himself to his waist.  Fortunately, I was there to fish him out. Catch of the day!  But did it end there?  Oh, don't be silly.  

Dried off, and back to his project, MOMD needed some help to hold a board level while he nailed it in place. Glad to be of service, I held said board. Now pause a moment, and ask yourself, as I did back then, why a man who has worked as a carpenter all these years and who has an impressive collection of carpenter's tools, would be using a ball-pein hammer to put a nail into a board. 

Reading my thoughts, MOMD said, "nice little finishing hammer, isn't it?" Causing him to lose concentration. Causing him to hit the wrong nail, aka his thumb nail. And causing him to curse impressively in three languages and hurl the offending hammer right through the middle of the board I was holding. 

This was not a moment to be disturbed with comment. I calmly put down the two pieces of broken board, went into the house and poured two glasses of whiskey. I added a little ice, and MOMD and I spent the rest of the afternoon chatting on the deck. 

Reflecting on this day of disasters, I think it would be good for our country if our prime minister would take up drinking a little whiskey now and again.