He Did It!

If I'm being honest, and when am I not being honest, I didn't think he could do it, and I said so, in various ways: No way. No possible way. No eff'n way. In hindsight, I realize, this wasn't the most supportive wifely approach. I could've been more of a cheerleader. But I was only a cheerleader for one game in 9th grade, so I'm a bit rusty when it comes to "rah, rah, rah, go take that ball, go down the field and score, score." It's true. I dropped the ball on this one. I did some eye-rolling, some heavy sighing. I may have laughed, derisively, once or twice. But this thing he wanted to do, this impossible feat, struck me as so out of reach, so unrealistic, that I couldn't muster much enthusiasm, especially when he set a specific goal: End of September. End. Of. September. Cruel SJG that I am, I just sat back and did nothing. And guess what? Yep. He did it. He emptied the storage unit. The eldest's fancy-ass bike? Side of the house. His barbecue? Side of the house. The boxes of CDs and books and stuff I schlepped from my sweet daddy's condo? Inside the house. Every closet? Filled to capacity. Still. For the first time in years, Public Storage can kiss our tushies. We're out of there. All thanks to hubby. He did it. With no help from me. Maybe if I play my cards right, this trend of me sitting back and doing bupkis will continue.