Another "Life With Bob" story

As a continuation of the Life With Bob series, before Bob and I got married, I was living in a cute little bungalow in West Akron that I had purchased after my divorce.  It was a great little house for me and the kids, but it was really drafty and cold in the winter so, Bob enters my life and offers to help me insulate it.
   He went to great lengths to explain the best kind of insulation to use was the kind you blow into the walls and what the insulation was made of and what the procedure was and of course, all I heard was, "blah, blah, blah" and I'm thinking, 'don't care, just make it so.  BIG mistake.  I  should have paid more attention. 
   The first issue was, we foolishly decided to do this in the dead of winter when the temperature was in the teens.  So we go to the Army/Navy store and buy bright orange survival suits that will withstand below-freezing temperatures for days.  We also bought big huge black boots called Mickey Mouse boots, evidently because they look like Mickey Mouse feet.  Then we bought the insulation which came in 40 big bags each shaped about the size of a bale of hay and weighed about 30 pounds apiece.  The store then lets you use the machine to blow the insulation in.  It was a hopper about as tall as me.
   So, a couple days before the big event, Bob went around the house and drilled a bunch of 1/2 dollar sized holes all over the house in which to blow the insulation.  And on the big day, we suited up in bright orange and black (so the neighbors couldn't miss how stupid I am!) and gloves and ear muffs.  Bob set up the hopper just inside the garage ("to keep you out of the wind so you won't get too cold") uh-huh.  Then he attached the 5,000 foot ( yes, an exaggeration) hose. 
   My job was to open the bags and dump them in the hopper.  This entailed slicing open the bags, hoisting them up on my shoulder and slowly dumping them in.  The first 10 or so weren't too bad, but after that each one started to feel substantially heavier.  I couldn't see Bob because he started on the other side of the house. (The sly fox)
   Half way through the bags, I had to take a break to get the feeling back in my shoulder so I decided to walk around the house to see how Bob was doing.  And there he was...............just standing there...................whistling...................eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich..................with a hose sticking in a hole.
   Of course, he did a deer-in-the-headlight when he saw me or more likely felt my laser beam stare burning into the back of his head.  He stood there frozen for just a second.....and then started laughing his ass off and comments sailed out of me like, "YOU SON-OF-A-BITCH!!!!"
   He tried to weasle his way out by telling me that you had to know just how to blow the insulation in and how to be alert to when it was time to change holes and blah, blah, blah.
   The only redeeming part of the whole day was when we went back in the kitchen and I opened one of the cupboards only to have insulation pour out and cover the kitchen floor.  Three guesses who cleaned THAT up! 

My life with Bob

Decided to start a new category, "MY LIFE WITH BOB" and share a few stories and experiences.  The first one that comes to mind is the year we were the youth leaders at our church and for a fund-raising project, the kids decided to have a 'Kiss the Pig' Contest.  They took pictures of several leaders of the church and put each one on a glass jar.  The congregation would then vote for who they wanted to have to kiss the pig.
   The one thing the kids forgot to consider was, "where are we going to find a pig to kiss?".  So of course, Bob, who can do anything (if you'll remember a prior post...."You're not Bob") told them he would find them a cute little Pot Belly Pig.
   After contacting some Pot Belly Pig associations, (who knew?)  he found a local farmer who said we could use his.  So he goes somewhere in southern Ohio and comes back with a pig in a cage in the back of his SUV.  Now comes the fun part.  The farmer said the pig had to be bathed before we could take him to church and trust me, the pig NEEDED a bath!  Dang!  Those things stink!  Problem was, I had assumed a pot belly pig was a little pig.  This pig was well over 100 pounds!
   Well, the big oink, oink goes to me!  Guess who got stuck bathing the pig?!?!?!?!  Yep, me!!!!  But first, we had to get it out of the cage and put a harness on it.  I was told I was just going out to help take the cage out of the truck.  So it's 6:30 sunday morning, and I'm out in our drive way, in my night shirt, bent over, showing the neighborhood my business,  holding the 100 pound pig's hind legs so it won't run away while Bob puts a hog harness on it.  It's squealing for all it's worth and it was so loud, I'm sure it woke the whole neighborhood.  The damned thing is kicking like crazy trying to get away and it's all I can do to hold on to its feet.  It kicked the shit out of my arm so I had to go get a tetanus shot :o(    But wait, the injustice is just beginning.  Then I have to haul a bucket of warm soapy water out while Bob holds it's leash and I scrub the ugly beast with a scrub brush,  ( a process they don't particularly like) then haul a bucket of clean water out to rinse it and then, (you're not going to believe this) the farmer said we had to rub it down with skin so soft!  Our two dogs daisy and chelsea look like they're thinking, "That's the ugliest damned dog I've ever seen!".  Then I had to hose out the cage, get it's food and water.  All the time, Bob's standing there holding the pig because, "I better hold the pig honey.  You're not strong enough to hang onto him."  All the time, Bob's laughing his ass off!     I GOT TOTALLY SCREWED!!!!!! 
   There are several stories like this where I was duped by my loving husband.  Maybe next time I'll tell you how I got screwed insulating our house.