I should know better!

I should know better about so many things. One in particular, is not to point out to Martin that my cookie jars need another shelf so that I can display them all. I did mention this to Martin, before the heart trouble, and thought he would get around to it when he was out for Christmas break. He did wait until Christmas break, but when I asked him to make it, I didn't know he was going to have the heart difficulty. I didn't know at the time that he would go on and make the shelf anyway- he sneaked behind my back and worked in the garage, knowing he should not stress himself. So, this evening, he comes in and asks me to help him. That is not a good request at this time, I always think the worst when he asks for help. What does he want? He wants me to help him put the 14ft shelf up in the living room. He stands there beaming like a little boy, so proud of his accomplishment, and anxious to get the shelf up so that all the cookie jars can be displayed without being crowded. I blew my stack. I told him I could not seriously believe that he would go to so much work, (although the shelf is fabulous) knowing that he shouldn't be doing stuff like that. I told him I was calling Joe or David to come and put the shelf up, and to get himself in his chair! He stood there and actually told me that he didn't need their help, to get off my butt and come and help him. Understand, the shelf is going 7ft up on a wall. 7FT! 14ft of shelf, 7ft up on a wall! I calmly explained that I did not want to try to put the shelf up with only him there, PLEASE LET ME CALL SOMEONE TO HELP! I should have known better. I stomped my foot and argued with him, and when he tried to charm me by putting his arms around me,. I pushed away. The dog thought we were wrestling and he jumped in. Then the other dog jumped in, barking and jumping all over us. Soon, my perfectly lovely 44oz diet coke with the perfect sonic ice went flying from the side table as a dog knocked it over with it's whip-like tail. Can you imagine how much soda is contained in a 44oz styrofoam cup? Well, when it is on the floor, it looks more like a gallon. A gallon of soda, with perfect sonic ice patterned all over the floor, taunting me. To make matters worse, Martin then pointed out that if I had just gone in the living room and helped him in the first place, I would still have my soda, and the shelf would be up on the wall. By now, my resolve is gone. I'll just go and help him. When he brought in the mile long shelf, I just gaped. "How are we going to get this thing up there?!!!" I asked him. He said, "Easy. I'll get up on the ladder on one end, and you get up on the ladder on the other end, we'll lift it up, I'll screw it into place and then it is up. SERIOUSLY? He really meant it. He wanted me to get up on a LADDER, hold up a massive shelf, wait for him to screw it into the wall, and get off the ladder, still without falling and killing myself. I should have known better. I gave in. I took my end of the shelf, which by the way, was surprising lightweight for being such a long piece of wood, and climbed up on a 3 rung ladder. I am a chicken, so I only climbed up on the second rung, my knees shaking the whole time. All around me, on other shelves, in display cabinets, and curio cabinets, the cookie jars were cheering me on. Martin nimbly leapt up his ladder and told me to lift my end in place. I did. He put his end up, screwed some screws into it, jumped down, and came to my end. "Okay, get down" he said. What do you mean, get down? I am already up here, shelf end in hand, and holding it like he said. "Are you going to get down? We don't have all night!" he says. He reaches up with his long ape-arms, and holds the end in place while I climb down the two rungs that felt like maybe 20 rungs. Then, without missing a beat, he jumps up on the second rung, screws the shelf onto the wall and gets down. The shelf is up, he didn't even break a sweat, and now I look like an idiot, making a big deal over something that to him was nothing. Tremulously, I asked him if his arm was hurting, and he said, "just a little, no big deal". Well, it's a big deal to me! I could just see it, he could have had a huge heart attack while putting up the shelf, died from it, and the kids would blame me! Selfish Mama, making daddy put up a shelf for her stupid cookie jars, knowing that he can't do stuff like that. You would think she would know better! For the rest of my life, every time I looked at a cookie jar, I would have had to remember that I murdered my husband because I selfishly asked for a cookie jar shelf. But, as he tried to tell me in the first place, it was nothing, and would only take a minute. I tried to let him know that I knew what was best, but I should have known better. You know, I have the answer! From now on, I'll just hide his tools! Then, I won't have it to worry about in the first place.