Recently, I shared with you the story of the List Test, where the Carpenter sends me to the hardware store with a list of items, which quickly becomes mission impossible, and I return home with solid excuses of why I could not complete my mission (read: blame inept salesperson).

The issue of the tile floor grout has now been resolved.

As the Carpenter was not going to let his skills be questioned by the dude in the apron, we made the trek back to the hardware store together this weekend.
It’s more fun together.

It started off with a simple plan because shopping with a man requires two goals: know what we need and know where to get it. That’s it. Get in. Pay for it. Get out. (If you see a metaphor to another aspect of say, romance or sex, than you are reading between the lines correctly. Subtle, aren’t I?).

True to form, I was quickly distracted from the task.

“Can we get one of these?” I asked of pretty much everything we walked by. The answer varied slightly from a straightforward “no” to “not at that price” or the insulting, “do you even know what that is?” The man is a killjoy.

While the Carpenter went in search of a staple gun and staples to load his new toy, I went in search of tool belts. I really want one. The answer is always the same, “you don’t need one.”

Well, that is a lousy excuse. He doesn’t “need” beer either, and yet the fridge is stocked.

I began trying on tool belts, adjusting the buckle around my hips, imaging what I could do with all those pockets. There were no pink belts, which is okay, because I liked the black one.

To be fair, I wasn’t wearing my work boots (yes, I have a pair), so the outfit wasn’t complete when I yelled up the aisle, “If I wore the tool belt and work boots, would that turn you on?”

“Maybe, a little. But if you actually do the work, that would turn me on,” he countered.

“Fine,” I say. “Give me a job, a power tool and I’m in.” With a laugh that bordered on insulting, he simply said, “No.”

He had the audacity to question what I’d put in my Kelly Tool Belt. It just so happens I have a list: snacks, a water bottle, baby wipes, lip balm, a slinky (because they are fun to play with), my Blackberry (obviously), a carpentry pencil, writing pad and a staple gun fully loaded so I can shoot that thing off and yell, “Dance for me.” Snap, snap.

Again with the “no.” No staple gun. No sharp tools. A hammer is still in negotiations.

Not to be distracted any further, the Carpenter found the correct grout and luckily, incorrect sales guy was nowhere in sight.

We headed to the exit, but not before we had a spontaneous dance right in the middle of the store. A little Uptown Funk jam came over the intercom, and well, life is too short not to dance.

The Carpenter might say “no” a lot, but when he says “yes,” it’s always worth it.

Rest assured, that Kelly Tool Belt is just a matter of time.