Willie is rebuilding his truck right now, occasionally making me a grease man. (If you're reading this and know WAY more about mechanics than I do and are thinking, "There's no way she's occasionally a grease man", you caught me. I have no idea what that means. I just help him every now and then.)
The truck project reminds me of a bad hair cut I once gave Halle. I just kept cutting and cutting and cutting. My friend saw it and said, "It's cute. Wait. What happened in the back?" I assume he knows what he's doing, but I am a little apprehensive. One day while acting as a grease man, I asked what he was doing. He was just standing and staring at the truck bed. "I'm trying to figure out how to do this without crushing my legs." I encouraged him to really think that out.
I really do have faith in my husband, I'm just so intimidated by mechanical objects that I find it all overwhelming. Hair cuts don't even always go well for me.
We went to a salvage yard yesterday (we had a baby sitter - this is what we do on our dates now). Apparently they charge an admission fee to look at junk. It was going to be 4 DOLLARS to gaze upon immobile vehicles. White trash neighborhoods need to pay attention here. We didn't have cash, and since their high class establishment didn't accept credit cards, we were denied the pleasures therein.
Dates don't always turn out the way you plan, but I can say that this one wasn't necessarily worse for the change in plans. I'm sure Willie will figure the truck out. If not, we'll charge you to come see it in person.