Things that Make Me Sick to My Stomach.

You know how when you're both dreading an appointment, but resolute about just sucking it up and doing what needs to be done, and find out what's going on? And so you're trying not to be overtly emotional because there's absolutely no reason to be emotional, because this is only a test? There's plenty of time to feel completely like a ninny, or to get emotional when you find out the results of the test. So it was a quiet morning here as Tim got ready for that appointment...and then his phone rang. The appointment was canceled because the two doctors who needed to be there couldn't be there. The nurse told Tim that this is a pretty regular problem. 

Wonderful. We've waited a couple months to get this appointment. 

Shit like this gives me a stomach ache. 

But we simply went ahead and got ourselves down to the build to work on the roof. My job was handling the saw on the ground, cutting the 16 foot roof purlins to 14 feet 11 1/4 inch lengths, and marking them at one foot, so that Tim could easily see how he needed to set it for the overhang. Then I trotted the boards up inside and climbed a ladder to push them up to where he was standing on the top plate of the frame. And I couldn't look at him as I pushed the 2x4 up between the trusses, because it made me sick to my stomach to see him standing there on top of the wall handling the length of board without holding on! The problem was that I couldn't NOT look at him either, because I was afraid I'd do something stupid and knock him off. 

I had such a stomach ache. 

And then he needed a pry bar and a hammer, which meant that I had to climb up to the top of an 8 foot ladder on to the horizontal piece of two trusses and hand the things to him. I couldn't look down because it made me sickish. I couldn't look up because it made me sickish to see him silhouetted against the blue sky. And did you know that trusses wiggle? I gritted my teeth and got it done because he was doing the balancing act, the tricky stuff. 

Stomach was doing some flips at that point, but I was brave. 

And then the thunder started and it was time to pack up, and I was not at all sorry, truth be told. Well, until he got the call that his truck was ready to be picked up from its front end alignment. Since we had to pick up some stuff with the dump truck, the plan was that I'd drive the dump truck home. I HATE the dump truck. It's big, but I wasn't driving the other truck, because 1) it is his pride and joy. 2) it's a standard, and while I can drive a standard (and actually prefer to drive a standard in the winter), I can't drive this truck. The clutch is very stiff, and I'm terrified of doing some kind of damage to his truck. (See 1) 

So. I was driving the dump truck and I was not happy about it. When it came time to leave the garage, I couldn't even get the dump truck into drive, which made my nervous stomach even more nervous. Tim was pulling out in the other truck and I waved him down. He stopped. I said, "I can't even get the stupid thing in gear!" Well. That's the sanitized version of what I said. It had been a rough day.

In any case, he said explained that I had to pull the gear shift lever really hard. "No. RRREEEEALLY hard..."

My son observed once that Tim had a higher tolerance for things that don't work right than most human beings. He is right. This is probably the secret of our successful marriage, as well. 

In any case, I got the truck to move and I picked my way slowly down the road, and I was happy to pull into the driveway. 

Erg.