It is really irritating to see a horror movie with Mark. He runs out of the room just before the gory stuff happens, then comes back in and wants me to recap the bloody scene for him. He’s even worse when it comes to real blood. I’ll be in another room while he’s cooking and hear screaming like a white girl in an ‘Elm Street’ movie. The first time I heard this I was sure that he had sliced off a finger with the expensive ‘O. J. Simpson’ kitchen knives I had bought him for Christmas. Of course when I ran into the kitchen he had a tiny cut with one drop of blood barely oozing out of it.
He is the same way watching me work, as he is about horror movies. Mark is so scared I’m going to cut off an arm or drill a hole in my leg that he stays away (the cursing may have something to do with it also). God help me if I ever do really get hurt. I’ll lay there for hours bleeding to death before he discovers me.
While building my deck, I did injure myself many times. The worst being when I was hauling the demolished deck out to the curb. I slammed my shin into the cart I was using, causing me to lose my balance and slam my arm into the fence. That of course was followed by the requisite cursing and swearing.
One life threatening clutz moment happened while sawing the ends off of the deck boards. I ran the circular saw right over the power cable. I can see myself shorting out the electricity and Mark is in the house assuming the power is just out (happens a lot here) and leaves to go somewhere with air-conditioning, while I’m fried on the back deck.