• August 24, 2007
My husband is an engineer. He successfully lived 32 years without me. He keeps a mostly tidy house, can do all of his own laundry and likes order. Living with me is not orderly. When I craft, he usually hides in the garage. It’s better for our marriage and his stress levels. I craft like a 2-year-old with markers and a white wall. Me crafting is the opposite of order.

In my sugar induced high, I got sloppy. I picked up the boiling hot molten chocolate directly from the microwave. Ouch! It burned. I flung the scorching bowl. The aftermath was not pretty.

Shocked silence filled the kitchen. I turned, wide eyed, to my patient, loving husband.

He shook his head sadly, “Why can’t you have a more clean job?”Chris immediately wet a rag with scalding water and got to work cleaning up the mess. I was rooted to the floor in horror. Plus, my finger hurt.When this photo was taken, he was muttering, “How did you get chocolate all up in the microwave door latch? That’s never going to come out. And, how am I going to clean all of the underside of the microwave? Hey! The chocolate is seeping into the grout!”I thought quickly. I’ve been cleaning the white grout in the bathroom for months with my nail polish remover. It has done an effective job. Our bathroom tile grout is sparkling and white. Nail polish remover would make this entire situation all better!

I sprang into action. I ran to the bathroom and fervently rooted through the cabinet, coming back to the kitchen in triumph. I silently got to work, scrubbing the chocolate grout. I felt elated! Finally, here was a way to redeem myself. If Chris saw how clean the grout was, perhaps he might even talk to me within the hour!

Within a minute, the grout was looking whiter. I set to work on the next patch. Chris sniffed the air and wrinkled his nose, “Do I smell chemicals?” He was genuinely puzzled. I tripped over my words as I explained that Acetone really seemed to do the grout cleaning trick.Silence. A puzzled expression crept over Chris’s face. Slowly, as though talking to a small child, he explained, “Honey, grout is fragile. It needs special cleaners.” With that, he dumped a bowl of soapy water over the entire mess, handed me a toothbrush and commanded, “Scrub.”Ohhhhhhhh… It didn’t seem the appropriate time to mention the bathroom grout and my pride in the Acetone-cleaned bathroom floor. So um, honey, if you’re reading this now? You might want to go check the grout in the bathroom.

 

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  1. I do totally love my engineer husband’s brain though. He is very predictable and that kind of stability is nice – especially for someone as flighty as me! =)

  2. I totally understand this post. I too come from a family of engineers-from nuclear to chemical-and throw in a West Point grad to boot {no pun intended :)}…I believe they “learn” to do things a certain way…

    Me-well, I’m the “doddler” ~ if you know what I mean-someone who is always creating…so sometimes learning has to take a bend in the road…but, I’m flexible.

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