[nfbwatlk] a question of assertiveness

[KAYE KIPP]

Um, gee whiz.  What a mess.  It might be one of those least said ... well, 
you know, um in the interest of self preservation.  loll.

Kaye
----- Original Message ----- 
From: "Carl Jarvis" <carjar at olypen.com>
To: "nfbw" <nfbwatlk at nfbnet.org>
Sent: Tuesday, January 15, 2008 4:43 PM
Subject: [nfbwatlk] a question of assertiveness


Now the fact is, I'm no painter.  It's not that I can't paint.  It's just 
that if you like your walls smooth, covered, no streaks or gobby, drippy 
stuff, I'm not your guy.
But I'm real happy to help anyway I can.  Remember those words, "Real 
Happy".
"Time to paint the kitchen", Cathy announced, and she began pulling 
everything off the walls and counters and taping up the molding.
"Can you find me an old sheet?" she called.
"Sure thing, Hon.  I'm happy to help".
When I returned with the old sheet, Cathy said, "Can you find the needle 
nose pliers and pull out these two nails in the wall?"
"Happy to help", said I, dashing out to the work bench and returning, pliers 
in hand.
As I reached for the nails, Cathy remarked, "I sat the gallon of paint on 
that counter.  Is it in your way?"
"Not in the slightest", said I, grabbing the nail tightly up close to the 
wall.
I wiggled it and then gave it a pretty good tug.  The nail snapped off right 
at the wall.  My arm shot straight back, hitting something hard.  Then there 
was a, "Puh-loop".  That unopened bucket of white paint hit the deck and 
popped open.  A flood of gooey, creamy paint rushed out across the hardwood 
floor.
Then I heard a sound...no, sound is not a good description.  Indeed, there 
are no English words to describe what I heard.  Perhaps some ancient Latin, 
passed down to my wife from her Roman ancestors.  But it got my attention.
For a few frantic minutes we grabbed towels, rags, buckets of soapy water, 
and performed some of the most interesting and strange  gyrations 
imaginable.
And finally, now very, very  quiet, Cathy drove off to the hardware store to 
fetch another gallon of paint.
So here's my question.
Is this the proper time to make certain Cathy does not feel that it was due 
to my being blind that caused the elbow to find the paint can?  Should, 
perhaps I say something like, "You should never have left that can of paint 
sitting on the counter when you knew I was going to pull those nails that 
you asked me to pull, and which I was very happy to do for you."
Or should I just suck it up and say, "I'm real sorry, Hon.  I don't know why 
I didn't move that paint."
Which, as I think about it, is probably the way to go, assuming I want to 
continue living.

Carl Jarvis



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