Keith went and bought a boat. Yes, a boat. I swear, it is a steep uphill battle to get that man to save a penny of his pay check.
To be fair, it only cost two hundred and fifty dollars and he plans to sell it. But still.
Yesterday Keith came home around twelve with a friend from work who was only going to stay for a couple beers. Several hours later, they came tumbling down the stairs, all excited about this truck on Craig's list (an Internet service which should never have been invented, as far as I'm concerned) and scheming about how they could get enough money for the guy to buy it.
The plan was revealed to me with great gusto; the other guy would pay three hundred and we would front him the other three hundred and then on pay day, he would pay us back four hundred.
Privately, I was thinking no way in hell, mainly because I happen to know the other guy has not told his wife about this plan. (She was the one other wife who came to the fourth of July barbecue, with the two small children.) I know I'm not going for the plan, I'm pretty sure she'd have some strong opinions on the plan as well.
Furthermore, Keith had been acting all annoyingly macho all afternoon and pushed me over the edge in the midst of heated truck discussions.
I turned from the sink, put my soapy hand on my hip and glared all the way down the kitchen at him.
"Would you stop the BS already?" I snapped. "You've been showing off for your friend all afternoon and I've about had enough of it!"
They both turned red and silly faced and his friend burst out laughing. "He has! He has!" he agreed. Keith, caught, tip toed down the kitchen with an endearing little grin on his face. He covered my face and neck with little kisses.
"You are the queen," he declared passionately.
I made him give me his word he wouldn't buy the truck that evening before I agreed to drive them. But it was the boat I wasn't anticipating. There was just no stopping the purchase of that boat. In fact, both of the guys wanted it badly and after sending pictures of it to other guys, got heated phone calls from those guys, begging them to buy it for them.
It was just a dented, fourteen foot John boat with peeling paint, a trailer and an engine. But, as I was assured about a hundred times in heated, heady whispers, the trailer alone was worth six to eight hundred dollars.
Of course, that's after he sands the boat down, repaints it, fixes the engine and puts new wheels on the trailer. In the meantime, we've yet to sell the Can and of course have the Jeep in the driveway, the ATV under the back deck and the HD in the garage. Where on earth he's planning to store the boat I have no idea.
I have learned that Keith is not normally wrong about these things, he does have an uncanny ability to find projects that will be profitable. But he always overlooks some of the cost. We've got to sell the Can now, if just for the space.
His friend didn't leave until past seven in the evening, having sobered up and eaten dinner.
"My wife is going to kill me," he said sadly, as he opened the front door. (He was suppose to be home by seven at the latest.)
"Buy her flowers, open the door and say, "I'm so sorry, honey. You have every right to be angry," I offered.
"That's a great idea," he said, hope dawning. "You think like, carnations? Hey! At least I didn't buy the truck; that should count for something..."
