Angus got a new toy.

See, since weÂ’re building an extension (or the architect and builders are, anyway), weÂ’re planning on doing a lot of the finishing work ourselves. For this, we will need tools. And I actually support him buying tools, because not only will they get used (and they do get used), but heÂ’s like a kid in a candy shop when heÂ’s around his man toys. I may fail to get excited about a table saw but if it floats his boat then whatever.

I went into the study the other day to find Angus slavishly poring over the new Toolstation catalog, with Post-It tabs at the ready to mark things he wanted. He pointed out something which looked not unlike a propane tank to my untrained eye. He was practically leaping out of his chair about it.

“What is that, baby?” I ask calmly.

“It’ll solve all our problems! It’s just what we need! It’s a compressor and it does absolutely everything!” he exclaimed.

“Indeed? So it’ll do the dishes?” I ask, arching my eyebrow. I feel that’s the benchmark of “I am dubious”, the arching of the eyebrow.

“Yes! It will!”

“I mean wash them, not blow the fuck out of them,” I reply.

“It’s just what we need! I’m going to have to get it!” he giggles.

“OK babe,” I shrug, smiling. “Do you need a tissue to clean up your mess from the catalog, or will you just wipe it on your boxers?”

“Ha bloody ha.”

The compressor showed up two days later. I was in London and Angus sent me a stern text that I was not to play with his new toys. When I entered the kitchen it looked like a tool and die factory had exploded all over the kitchen table. There was no way in hell I was going to play with his toys. I didn't even know what most of it was.

When he came home it was like a party atmosphere with the compressor.

“Look! I can hook a nail gun to it!” Damn. That was actually my idea for a Christmas present for him, now that’s out. Nothing says “romance” like something that can shoot a 4 inch spike out the nozzle at high speeds, after all. “It can dust! It can blow up balloons! It can spray paint! It does everything!”

Indeed. While he played with his toys I caved in to the Lemonheads demand for MSG. IÂ’ve never been a huge fan of Chinese food, but something about sweet and sour prawns was screaming my name. I got some take-away Chinese for us for dinner, and although IÂ’m good about not eating bad foods this meal was about as bad as it gets-springrolls, crispy seafood rolls, and sweet and sour prawns. It could only have gotten worse if IÂ’d actually taken our plates and battered them and fried them, too.

When I got there with our Chinese, something was up. The dog was glued to the underside of the table, whimpering. Angus looked chagrined. “You know how Gorby loves power tools?” he asked. I do – Gorby LOVES power tools. From a cordless drill to a table saw, he loves the noise and mess they make. We have to lock him inside the house sometimes he gets so over-excited about tools. “Yeah, well, he doesn’t like the compressor so much,” Angus says sheepishly.

This is a surprise. We both bet that Gorby would go absolutely mental over the new tool, and in a good way. We ate our dinner and then Angus turned on the compressor. Sure enough, Gorby disappeared into the living room in a haze of grey and white fur. Angus shut the kitchen door to work the tool (he actually had to – it was raining outside so he couldn’t go out and there was concern a part on it wasn’t working, which would necessitate immediate return to factory.) Gorby and I were in the living room with the doors shut, the dog hiding well behind the couch, whining. At the sudden sound of a valve backfiring, Gorby tried to jump up on the couch and bury under me.

This was wearing on me. It was a pattern – compressor humming, dog whistling, valve going off, dog dashing behind the couch despite comforting from me.

Finally, there was a blast of outtake air that was so loud that Gorby wouldÂ’ve tried to go up the chimney had the fire guard not been there.

“ENOUGH WITH THE TOY!” I shout.

Angus emerges from his compressor space and apologizes to Gorby. “I’m sorry, boy, it’s all done now.”

We chill out and watch version 1 of The Alastair Campbell Diaries while allowing the fried food to wrap itself around our arteries. I realize my right breast is itching terribly as I lounge on the couch. Fuck, I think. I have PUPPP. I delicately peel back my T-shirt (by "delicately" I of course mean "rip up my T-shirt with the grace of a frat boy at Ft. Lauderdale") and see, instead of said hateful rash, I have a bug bite.

I look up at Angus. "I have a bug bite on my boob."

He looks at me and shrugs.

I frown. "I need sympathy." I don't really need sympathy, it's just something we do.

"Oh! OK. Um...sorry about the bug bite."

I nod, satisfied.

We finish our TV program, love on Gorby once more to make sure he's feeling secure (he is, he has a very short memory) and then head up to bed. Once there, I find three more bug bites. I turn to Angus, who is reading his magazine in bed.

"I have four bug bites," I state.

"Oh," he replies, disinterested, folding up his magazine and switching off the light.

"Sympathy, please."

"I already gave you sympathy!"

"That was for ONE bug bite. I now have FOUR."

He sighs deeply and spoons me.

"My thoughts are with you at this difficult time."

This. This is why I'm with him. Because he buys compressors and knows just what to say.

-H.

PS-Zane could not make the meeting, so he sent a sub. Luckily said sub is someone I have worked with before and whom (according to Angus) is “sweet on me”. I’ll take a sweet on me over a showdown anytime, but I know it’s just a matter of time before Zane and I stare down over a table. Sorry, meant to blog yesterday but was exhausted after a long day of soul-sucking meetings.

PPS-Surprisingly I saw a large chunk that I had written a long post about on someone else’s blog, word for word. And I know it was mine because I’d done some edits to it that showed up on the other site. When I quote others or use something from an email, I credit them (even if I just use their initials or a shout out to them in case they want to maintain anonymity). I have seen people copy whole posts of mine and paste them, but they do usually tell people where the found the info, which I’m absolutely fine with-on the few occasions it looked like someone nicked whole posts of mine, I got pretty fucked off. Quote me? Link me? Borrow whole passages? No problem as long as you mention where you found it, because otherwise it pisses me off when people steal and makes me feel cheap and dirty and used, and not in the good “Friday night boot-knocking” kind of way, more like the "I wrote your term paper and you stiffed me on the payment" kind of way.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 08:16 AM | Comments (13) | Add Comment
Post contains 1288 words, total size 7 kb.

1 Who's the lousy plagiarist? Name and shame 'em! Alos hope your bugbites are ok. I haven't got a clue what a compressor is either, nor what you could do with it.

Posted by: Elisa at July 13, 2007 10:29 AM (6/XCd)

2 our air compressor makes a fantastic noise when it's first turned on (filling with air). It's hubby's compressor but it's MY nail gun. I understand there are several sizes of nails and they take different guns, so you can still get Angus a nail gun for Christmas, just a different size. Let me tell you how useful the compressor is for filling tires (bike, car, whatever).

Posted by: wRitErsbLock at July 13, 2007 12:18 PM (+MvHD)

3 Yes. Assholes like that need to be brought out in the open. Tell Angus I'm very jealous of his compressor. I'd love to have one for myself, but since my neighbor has one he lets me use my wife doesn't see why I need one :-(

Posted by: ~Easy at July 13, 2007 12:18 PM (X+de8)

4 Well, you have my sympathy for your FOUR bug bites! I had four on one foot not too long ago, and that shit itched for a week.

Posted by: geeky at July 13, 2007 12:24 PM (ziVl9)

5 Our two dogs hate the compressor and actually peed themselves when we were putting down our new flooring. DIY totally turns me on. Sgt knows he's going to get some serious loving after I've been shopping at Home Depot. I can't help myself.

Posted by: Anita at July 13, 2007 12:54 PM (boPjE)

6 My dogs barks like mad and then he pees all over the floor when I turn on anything loud - like a blender. Yeah who plagiarized your post?! That is bull!

Posted by: Heather at July 13, 2007 01:21 PM (s0rhn)

7 Dare I say we have THREE air compressors? A huge one in the shop, a mobile one in the "work truck" (that goes to the field and can do on-the-spot repairs) and a small slightly-bigger-than-a-football one for when Hubs doesn't want to haul the work truck around just to air up a tire. Ah, yes, the testosterone does fly around here a bit. I sympathize with the bug bites. That's the worst part of summer for me, until the hard freeze hits I get bit like crazy. I'm one of those people who swell up something horrid if I get bit by something as tiny as a "no-see-um" and would hate to think what kind of hell I would go through if I ever got stung by something significant. Stealing your words? Filthy buggers! That is just SOOOOO uncool. You have such great words... but they are uniquely Helen words and should be rightfully credited as Helen words. Or, better yet, should just be left right where they started.

Posted by: sue at July 13, 2007 01:29 PM (WbfZD)

8 We play the tool lottery at my house all the time. I want something big done - and I convince my DH to do it by waving new tools under his nose. Unfortunately at the rate we're accumulating tools his next project may have to be a tool shed and I'm not getting anything out of it. - Gotta call out the copy cat - or have some fun with it if it's been direct linked

Posted by: cursingmama at July 13, 2007 01:31 PM (PoQfr)

9 Lucy doesn't like the air compressor either - so, Gorby isn't alone. James has started leaving it in the basement and running a long long hose up the stairs - if possible. Tools tend to be his choice of gifts when it comes to birthdays and Christmas. Pocket hole jig? Sure! Just show me the specific website where I can buy it! I feel for you on the bug bites. Could always dab a bit of calamine lotion on them and make pink spots a new fashion statement? Yeah, the cold has taken away all ability to write things that are remotely funny. People, use copy and paste for good things - not bad.

Posted by: Michele at July 13, 2007 02:19 PM (H4SV7)

10 Air compressors are a fine toy but from one girl to another, ya gotta draw a line in the sand if Angus ever wants to bring a backhoe home. Just don't let him do it.

Posted by: Marie at July 13, 2007 02:22 PM (v+Iku)

11 I see you've finally met the evil sploggers. Unfortunately there is very little you can do except explain to them about plagiarism and leave a little comment with the link to the original post, so their readers can see what an asshole they're dealing with. Our princess loves power tools, too. And she doesn't mind compressors. In fact she thinks it is her MISSION to bark them to death. The only thing she runs from is the dreaded evil vacuum monster....

Posted by: caltechgirl at July 13, 2007 04:03 PM (qPLLC)

12 ::: stomps and whines, a la Veruca Salt, "I want a compressor NO-ooooooow!" Seriously - that's one of the toys on my list. LOL As for Gorby, being afraid will keep him away from the business end of the nail gun, right? I can really imagine him hightailing it out of the room occupied by the big scary monster compressor noises. Pathetic and cute at the same time. You have my deepest sympathies for your bug bites, which I hope are on the way to healing. And I *love* battered and fried Chinese food dishes! Comfort food for sure. (Go starch! ) Love the sympathy game.

Posted by: Lisa at July 13, 2007 08:13 PM (e8V7B)

13 I still don't understand what air compressors do; I just know guys LOVE them! hahaha And I ran across an ENTIRE blog entry of mine the other day on a weird-assed blog that at least linked to me at the bottom of the post, although it didn't give me credit for writing it. I still don't even understand what the blog was for or why my entry was on there but there I was. Not only that, but some of the words had been changed in nonsensical ways too; like the word "apple" randomly inserted where I'd written the word "people", you know? Odd substitutions like that. My theory is, it's an alien blog. Aliens have been watching this behavior for some time and they want to know why people enjoy blogging so much. So they created their own blog, but being aliens, lacked anything to say, so they grabbed my entry at random and posted it. Then waited for the "high" they are sure humans must be getting. What? Why are you staring? it could happen! ;-P

Posted by: The other Amber at July 13, 2007 10:13 PM (zQE5D)

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