Sledgehammer

I am the luckiest man alive.  Anyone who knows my wife would agree.  There are many things I appreciate about her.  After fourteen years of marriage, things just keep getting better. 

So, you are wondering to yourself, why is this post named "Sledgehammer".  Marriage and sledgehammers don't seem to go together.  I'll be the first one to conceded that point.  On further examination, however, go together they do.

Several years ago we purchased our first home.  It was a multilevel with a walk-in master closet and the ugliest green kitchen tile I have still ever seen.  One of the "features" I first noticed about our new place of residence was a stunning several-hundred-pound paperweight on the side of the home; a solid mass of concrete deposited as a housewarming gift by the previous owner.  Being a man, and a smart one at that, I quickly got to work on the issue.

"Honey, I was thinking we should buy a sledgehammer."  Creases appeared between her nose and forehead.  Sensing the quizzical attitude I continued, "You know, so I can break up that block of concrete and haul it off."

"Hummm.  Do you think you need a sledgehammer to do that?" 

What else am I going to use, my bare hands?  "I think it could be exactly what I need.  I don't know, I've never broken up a large piece of concrete before.  But I need something."

"I don't know, we just spent a lot of money on our house.  Maybe it could wait?"

"I really don't think it's that big of a deal to buy a sledgehammer," I said.

"Do you think we could rent one."

Rent one?  I picture myself skipping up to the customer service at Home Depot and asking the lady behind the counter if she could please rent me a $20 piece of equipment.  Rent one?

To be honest, I can't remember everything that was said.  I do remember we had a fairly lengthy conversation.  We discussed items such as where would we keep such a fine object.  I assured her there was plenty of room in the garage.  We did own one now, after all.  Besides, I didn't want a mammoth sized one, only one big enough to perform a little surgery on a block of concrete.

"Where in the garage would we put it?"  She adjusted her shoulders in that way she has since the day we met, the way I love. 

"I think it would fit fine in the tool box."

"Wait a second, didn't you say you want a sledgehammer?"

"Uh, yeah, that what I said.  I want a sledgehammer."  I've had enough of her little attitude.  I tap out a hammering motion with my hand.

Both of her hands spring to life in front of her.  "Isn't a sledgehammer the thing I see them using to work on roads?"  A loud stuttering sound pounds from her mouth; as she mimics the motion of a jackhammer with her arms. 

We have laughed about this episode many times.  For the most part we communicate extremely well.  However, we have worked through several "sledgehammer moments" in our marriage since then.  

How many "sledgehammers" do you have in your life? 

I have one in my toolbox if you need to borrow it.