This blog post from 2016 came up in my memories the other day and it cracked me up because I can vividly remember how irritated Henry was that day. It also made me sad because of the way things ended with my grandparents house (I don’t think I even officially wrote about it, but in the end, we weren’t able to save it and some a-hole bought it and is flipping it I guess).
(I don’t know why I said “a-hole”up there and not just asshole.)
Anyway, I’m glad we were able to get a few months of quality time with the house, and that we managed to eke out some more really good memories of our time there trying to fix it up. This is hands down one of those good memories!
We’ve been working on the outside of Gillcrest lately since we’ve reached a point with the interior where actual handymen will need to be hired. There is a ton of overgrowth happening in the backyard plus some felled trees, so today Henry bought a CHAINSAW.
I know what you’re thinking: what kind of man doesn’t already own a chainsaw? Aren’t they like born with one?
I don’t know why I was so excited about this. I knew the moment that Henry fired it up, I would probably pee my pants because HAUNTED HOUSE TRAUMA.
Still, I begged him to let me pick out the chainsaw, but he shouldered me out of the way (!!!!!!) and gruffly said something about “MAN PICK CHAINSAW. YOU NOT MAN.” Then he proceeded to put on this huge show of browsing the chainsaw showcase when we all knew he was just going to buy the cheapest one there.
C’mon now, Henry.
My favorite part was after he determined which was the cheapest, he asked the Home Depot guy, “BLAH BLAH BLAH?”
And the Home Depot guy was all, “BLAH BLAH BLAH.”
And then there was a MYSTERIOUS CAN HAND-OFF.
Followed by more BLAHs and another hand-off of A THING OF STUFF.
You guys missed so much. I’ll bring the camera crew next time.
Back at Gillcrest, no one was there yet and I was like, “Do I really want to be alone here with a chainsaw-wielding Henry?” But then my mom and Corey were there and I realized it wouldn’t have mattered much because it took Henry FORTY-FIVE MINUTES to get the chainsaw started.
WOW MUCH MAN, VERY TESTOSTERONE.
I helped by throwing crab apples at him while Corey meandered about the backyard, taking pictures of trees.
Us Kellys are notorious for our yardwork ethics.
Henry was really starting to get extremely pissed off, so I wasn’t exactly sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing when he finally got it started. I’m not sure what the issue was other than Henry just not being masculine enough? The guys at the haunted houses never seem to have a problem getting it started.
(Please enjoy Corey’s and my obnoxious gang-laughter in the above video. It really helps Henry deal with stressful situations.)
After about 20 minutes of chainsaw’ing, I noticed Henry milling about quietly so I went over to berate him for being a slacker. He held up his finger to show me that he had WOUNDED HIMSELF ON THE CHAINSAW!!!
“OMG DID YOU CHAINSAW YOURSELF?!?!?!” I screamed, bracing myself for impending faints.
“No, I burnt myself on it,” he said quietly, probably trying to hold back tears while praying that he his penis would eventually come back to him after being engulfed by the cavernous VAGINA that had opened up in its place. God Henry, you’d never know you used to be in THE SERVICE!
“Oh,” I said, disappointed that his injury wasn’t more manly and valiant. So I went back to sitting in the grass
Apparently the reason he burned himself was because the chain was too loose and in his attempt to tighten it, he touched some silver part whatever that means. Once he stopped crying about it, he picked up the manual and sat down for some summer reading.
Then my mom came back with PIZZA which was great because Corey and I had been working very hard, dragging chopped down branches into the woods. My mom said she did a spit-take when she saw me in the yard, working.
I have callouses now, maybe.
Our new tradition is eating pizza in the formal dining room that I don’t think my grandparents ever used after the year 1983, while blasting the soft rock station over the kitchen speakers. Usually, there is at least one Phil Collins/Genesis jam that plays, but today we were treated to BROKEN WINGS by MR MISTER.
My mom didn’t understand what was going on and thought that I was filming the pizza because the song goes with pizza (“That song goes with pizza??” she’s incredulously asking in the background of the video) but it’s really just because I needed to focus on something while capturing some glorious notes of Broken Wings, you know? And why not pizza?!
After pizza, Henry casually announced that someone was there, and we all fucking lost our shit because it’s been HAUTE TENSION since March 30th, OK? Turns out my mom had recently renewed the insurance on the house and it was just some dude from the insurance agency who was there to take photos for the file or something, I don’t know, I wasn’t the one talking to him.
And now if you’ll excuse me, I think I’m going to go and put that Mr. Mister record on right now. KBYE.