Jeff and Shea were playing fetch in the house. Mostly because Jeff did not want to leave his comfy seat on the couch, and Shea was getting antsy. My novel idea would have been to take him for a walk, but nobody is paying me to think. So, the game of fetch ensued. There is a nice long hallway with wood floors, so Shea would go scraping, slipping, and sliding down the hall, and then pounce on Jeff to return the ball.It's quite cute really. Shea is so enthusiastic and nothing makes my husband giggle like a school girl, quite like Shea jumping on him, well almost nothing. Anyways, once Jeff was done, Shea brought the ball to me hoping to continue his play. I hesitated as I didn't want to open this can of worms. The one that caused such awful destruction back in dreaded 2008 incident. But, really, who can resist Shea's waggily tail? Not me!
You see, when Shea was just a little puppy, weighing in at significantly less that he 80 pounds he is now, we used to play fetch in the house all the time. We would literally sit at one end of the house and roll the ball all the way to the other. Puppy Shea would sprint through the living room, the family room, and the kitchen, scoop up the ball, and return full force, too excited to stop before barreling onto our laps. We knew we shouldn't do it, but we just couldn't resist. It was so cute. We loved the way he jumped on us. We told ourselves he would only be little for so long, we should savor it while we can. And ruefully, we did!
Then it happened. Jeff was on a road trip with his basketball team. Shea was at the stage where he was visabily bigger every day. Certainly too big to be jumping on my lap from a full sprint. Try telling him that! We were stupidly playing fetch in the house, and Shea was running at me full speed. I could tell this was going to hurt. He took off into the air, aiming to land on my ever so cushy lap. Problem is, I chickened out. I moved out of the way and Shea went right through the wall. Not through the wall into the other room, but yes, through the wall. Don't worry. He was fine. It didn't even phase him. He was ready for the next toss as I began to panic over how I was going to explain a dog sized hole in the wall!
I did what any smart, respectable wife would do; I got on the internet and googled how to fix a giant hole in the wall. I did not speak a word of it to Jeff, I just went to Home Depot to find the supplies I needed. I found each item except one. I asked the nice man at Home Depot where the so-and-so was, and he began to ask questions. What was I doing? How did it happen? How big was the hole?
Well, that was the question that did me in. That is where I lost my HGTV confidence. The man laughed at me.
"No way you are going to fix a hole that size! You probably should sheet rock a whole new wall." Way to rain on my parade! At first, I laughed him off. What does he know, he works at Home Depot. It's not like he's Bob Villa. I bought the stuff anyways, and brought it home. I painted the big slat of wood that would take the place of the giant hole. I drew the lines on the wall where I was going to saw it off. Ha, yea. I did that.
Then, just like what had gotten me into this mess in the first place, I chickened out. I told Jeff the truth and he found it quite funny. He was able to fix the wall pretty good when he got home. And it was not at all the way that I had planned on going about doing it.
If you look beyond Shea's shoulder, you will see where it was. Not perfect, but better than a hole!
No comments:
Post a Comment