By Mike Pound
Globe Columnist
JOPLIN, Mo. —
At about 3 a.m. the other day I was awaken by a loud noise followed by the sound of a cat running down the stairs.
“I hate those cats” I said to myself and went back to sleep.
Things are a little unkempt at our house
Well, that’s not true. Things are little unkempt at the Roman Coliseum. Things are WAY unkempt at our house.
We’re doing some remodeling. When my wife decides to remodel she doesn’t fool around. My wife comes from the school of thought that figures if nine women get pregnant at the same time, a baby will be born in a month.
That school of thought doesn’t work.
Rather than have one remodeling project started and completed, and then move on, my wife has opted to start several remodeling efforts at the same time. The first thing my wife did was commission the remodeling of both her closet and our 12-year-old daughter Emma’s closet at the same time.
In the past, I have been accused by my wife of occasionally exaggerating in this space. But, I can tell you, without fear of contradiction, that it would take longer to remodel my wife’s closet alone than it took to build the pyramids of Egypt.
If you add the time it would take to remodel the closet of a 12-year-old girl you have a project of epic proportions. Have you ever seen a 12-year-old girl’s closet? John Edward’s closet is less cluttered than a 12-year-old girl’s closet.
In order to remodel their closets, my wife and Emma had to take everything out of their closets and place them in other rooms. My wife decided the best room to place the closet debris in would be our bedroom.
Specifically, my side of our bedroom. As a result, when I want to go to bed, I have to ask for a map.
In addition, my wife decided that while Emma’s closet was being remodeled it made sense to have Emma’s room painted. The night before Charlie, the guy heading up the remodeling projects, was to start work on Emma’s room my wife told me that we had to move everything away from the wall in the room.
“HAHAHAHAHAHA,” I said.
My wife didn’t say anything.
“Oh, you’re serious,” I said.
I pointed out to my wife that, at the present time, it was impossible to see the walls in Emma’s room let alone move whatever it was that was blocking them from sight. I told my wife it would be years -- perhaps decades -- before we would be able to clear a path to the walls in Emma’s rooms.
My wife told me I was exaggerating and went upstairs to begin clearing the walls in Emma’s rooms. A few minutes later my wife came downstairs and called Charlie to tell him he wouldn’t be able to start on Emma’s room the next day.
“But it will be ready the day after that,” my wife said.
When my wife got off the phone I asked her where she found the crack that she had obviously been smoking. My wife told me to be quiet. So I was.
The next night, I stood outside Emma’s room, tied a rope around my waist and handed the other end of the rope to my wife.
“If I tug on the rope hard three times start pulling me out,” I said.
“You’re a @&#%,” my wife said.
The good news is, after a couple of hours we were able to clear a path to the walls in Emma’s bed. The bad news is now we can’t find Emma’s bed.
The good news is we’re now missing two cats.
Address correspondence to Mike Pound, c/o The Joplin Globe, P.O. Box 7, Joplin, MO 64802, or via e-mail at mpound@joplinglobe.com.
