See that space above the shower walls? And the gap between the wainscoting and the rest of the plaster? That's 100% pure Bond-O, my friends. It's like duct tape to My Beloved. Gotta crack? Hole? Dent? Bond-O to the rescue! It's cheaper than plaster, safe when wet, malleable and easy to sand, and takes paint well. Only one problem: it smells like death. And, thanks to chronic, long-term exposure, I am now so sensitized to it that I can detect one Bond-O molecule in a roomful of smokers. [Mayday! SEND VANILLA-SCENTED CANDLES!]
As we move closer and closer to a completed renovation, I pause here to express thanks again for a husband who can "love, shelter, and comfort" his family in so many more ways that I realized when I said "I do" almost fourteen years ago.
Example #2: cut to me with wicked "lady problems" curled up on the sofa watching "Starman" (Thanks, Reed & Jo!) Along comes My Beloved, after donating blood, mind you, with - not one - but TWO bags of peanut M&Ms, which I then proceeded to inhale like a child who's just discovered sugar for the first time.
Maybe it's just the sugar rush or the Bond-O fumes, but something about a Valedictorian, Summa Cum Laude using trigonometry to calculate the lengths of MDF while sporting holey-jeans and a dust mask that makes my motor purr!
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