I love to work on the house or in the yard. There’s this feeling of accomplishment when a task is done. I stand back and look at my work and say “eh, not bad.” Prior to taking on a task, my wife never fails to ask “Are you sure you can do this?” And it’s not the supportive type of question. It’s the kind that really says “I don’t want a big hole in my house.” So, finishing a task not only makes me feel good, it gives me a bit of vindication for having my aptitude questioned. Granted, I occassionally give her reason to question, but that is not the point of the post, so please stop dwelling on the negative….hater.

There’s one area that I can not stand to work….in the crawl space. I’d rather work in the hot attic or out in the 103 degree heat more than I would under the cool, damp, dark….scary, spider-laden, death-trap of a crawl space.

Guess what I had to do this past weekend…

I crawled under the house to see what the problem was with the dryer vent. Sure enough, the pipe had worked itself apart. Or maybe it was pulled apart by the monsters that lives under there. As I crawled around trying to find a decent way to approach the pipes, I kept feeling non-existent spiders and bugs crawl over me. After a few minutes, I trained myself to ignore these things that weren’t trying to eat me alive.

At one point, I was sure I heard something behind me, but I kept working. And then, as plain as day, I felt something cold and wet on my leg. This could not be my imagination. I wanted to turn around and see what it was, but I didn’t want to do it so fast that I freaked out this thing and have it bite me. Slowly, I turned and pointed my flashlight into the beady eyes of this massive creature. Pippin lifted his cold nose from my leg, greeted my flashlight by licking my face, and then went back to exploring the dark underground.

As luck would have it, I couldn’t fix the thing without having to go buy some parts from Lowe’s and then crawl back under there again. It’s amazing that is wasn’t quite as scary the second time when I knew that my furry companion was down there with me. I guess that’s why they’re “man’s best friend.” I know my wife certainly wouldn’t have gone under there with me. And even if she did, we’d probably still be under the house with her asking “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”