Rock and Roll

So I was chatting with E and J at lunch last Wednesday, telling them about the piece of bathroom ceiling that I replaced.
J looked at me, her eyes lit up and she sat up straighter in her chair. It was as if some good looking stud puppy had just walked into the room.
“You do drywall?”
Yes, that look in her eyes said that I could rock her world, or at least one room, or maybe just sheetrock a wall.
I looked at her and said, “Don’t even think about it, darlin’.”

It just goes to prove what Red Green said, ‘If the women don’t find you handsome, at least let them find you handy.’

My lot in life.

And last Saturday, as I came out onto the back deck for a short break, WG looked at me, I had just finished tearing out the piece of the damaged bathroom ceiling. There was sheetrock dusk on me, brown insulation, dirt, and dust.
WG took one look at me and sang, ‘Cause I’mmmm, hooked on a ceiling.’

All I could do is shake my head and wonder; for this, I gave up celibacy?

Okay, I wish I had thought of it, but I can’t always be clever, 24-7.