My suggestion she was over-reacting looked decidedly, well, pathetic as we wandered round the homestead, the tally slowly mounting.
The "couple" of jobs i had on my schedule was a woeful underestimation - right up there with my estimate of the number of nails I thought I'd need to finish the garden shed round the back of the garage.
Anyway.
I decided to take control of the situation and promised my lady I'd get stuck in and finish some stuff off. Actually we agreed that if I got stuck in and finished some stuff off she'd make me a nice lunch - which basically meant I needed to get it done or I would be deprived of food.
So, with the possibility of an enforced diet in my mind, I set off for Bunnings.
Big mistake.
Now, I don't know whether its just me or all men - I suspect the latter - but when I get into a place like that time and all the cares of the world just drift away into insignificance.
Like-minded blokes amble around the power tools discussing rpm and torque, others drift off into the far aisles just looking at plumbing fittings they know nothing about or will ever use, some stand for ages in front of the nails, nuts and bolts determined not to ask for help less their manlihood is compromised . . .
Gulp. It's an emotional place.
But it's also a happy place, full of fulfilment. And later as I take my purchases to the car I'm as happy as I was when I discovered Australians really do cheat at cricket and it is possible to argue that chocolate covered almonds are, in fact, good for you.
Anyway.
Upon arriving home I found Mrs P waiting for me on the partly unpainted deck with a coffee and lunch.
Life could not be any better I thought as I sat down. A beautiful and loving wife, a visit to Bunnings for some blokeship and now a hearty lunch. Bliss.
Unfortunately I hadn't looked properly at the "lunch" until I sat down.
A half full cup of coffee, half a filled roll and half an apple? In fact, half my normal consumption.
Then it dawned on me a point was being made.
Apparently I'd spent so much time at Bunnings I was unlikely to have enough left to tackle those half finished little jobs i had planned to complete.
So Mrs P, in a very clever way, was letting me know there are consequences for distractions.
Thankfully she assured me I could certainly have the other half of my lunch.
When she got round to it.
■ Kevin Page is a teller of tall tales with a firm belief too much serious news gives you frown lines. Feel free to share stories to kevin.page@nzme.co.nz .