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This is my husband. Or his leg, to be more precise.

We were buzzing about, being all productive. Bobby was installing a new bathroom vent fan, while I puttered on the front porch. And then there was a enormous crash. I flew into the house, preparing to see him lying at the foot of the drop-down attic stairs. Nothing there. And then I saw his little leg just hanging from the guest bedroom ceiling. And it was a big fat nasty mess of insulation & plaster & dust & all the things that go into an 80-yr-old ceiling. I ran for the camera. As I snapped this picture, Bobby yelled “Is that a flash?!? Are you TAKING a PICTURE?!?! You better not put this on your fucking blog!”  to which I responded sweetly “Are you ok, dear?”

This is marriage at its best, folks :)

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