IT WAS BUSTER"S FAULT or How I Happened to Remodel the Kitchen

Here, once again, is a story about my wife's tom cat, Buster. If you would like to read other tales about him, you can start here, Tales of Buster the Cat Chapter One, and follow the arrows at the bottom of each chapter to navigate to the next one.

The following events are all Buster's fault, on account of I need someone to blame. If I were to accept responsibility for the consequences of my actions, I'd have to tear up my man card and resign from the club!

The Missus was pregnant with our first child and the hormonal mood swings drove me crazy confused me . I suggested she take a week to travel to Missouri and visit her folks, she agreed. I would stay home and keep things together and she could ooh and ah over baby clothes with her mother.

The idea suited her, and I looked forward to some time of masculine freedom! Perhaps even have a poker night with the boys, maybe watch fishing shows on the television or drink an extra beer while I grilled a steak. Not one disapproving stare from a woman to make me feel guilty. "Heck, I might even have the whole six pack!" I thought.

The fateful day arrived and goodbye kisses and hugs, tearful too because of the hormones, were exchanged. I watched her drive off and disappear into the sunrise.

This was a workday for me so I left soon after for the office.

At noon, I came home for lunch and rushed in with my arms loaded with man supplies. T-bone steaks, potato chips, french bread, a new deck of playing cards, and a six pack of my favorite brew!

I put all my groceries away and took out last nights chicken sauce picante (that's french for chicken stew, cajun style), dumped this into a skillet and placed it on the stove to heat for lunch.

Buster walked into the kitchen, and sat in front of the door. He looked up and down like the door should open itself, he looked at me when it didn't.

"Do you want out, you ole devil?" I inquired of him. The cat just stared up at me.

Opening the door to let him out, I noticed the delivery man driving up, so I went out to greet him.

Hot Dang! My handy dandy seed spreader arrived from the Handy Dandy Online Garden Store !

I glanced up and took a reading on the weather, rain was likely. It would only take me five minutes to spread the clover seed that I prepared a spot for so, I grabbed the bag of seed, and the spreader, and headed out to the garden.

Finished with that, I strolled leisurely back to the house, I attached an air hose to my compressor and blew the dust from my new seeder and put it away.

When I opened the door a blast of black smoke hit me in the face!

Oh, no!
Oh, No!
OH,NO!

I left the fire on under the skillet! Quickly I ran inside, ducking under that oily cloud of smoke, and snatched the thing from the stove!

Back in the kitchen, I turned off the range and opened windows and doors to vent the black clouds out. I had to get back to work so I left everything open, I hoped the odor would be gone by the time I returned.

That evening I assessed the damage. I knew I was in trouble because the normally brilliant white ceiling was now a sickly canary yellow and the vent above the stove was blistered and the whole place smelled like burnt chicken.

The wife was going to kill me! But, hey! I had a whole week to fix this!

The drapes came down and went into the wash, then I tried scrubbing the yellowed tinge from the ceiling. That was not going to fix it. I needed a plan!

The next morning I called my office and arranged a few days leave from work. I headed to the hardware store to select a gallon of white paint. Loaded up with pans and rollers and all the paraphernalia one needed when repainting a kitchen, I headed to the check out.

With three buggy loads of supplies I arrived at the register. I was hoping I might receive a discount. After all, I was making an extra large purchase but, alas, not so. The proprietor was still put out with me, he had speculated heavily in rat trap futures and the market went south when the Missus and I moved into our new home.

The department store had an incredibly expensive skillet to replace the one I destroyed, but I purchased it anyway.

The morning, and most of the afternoon were spent repainting the ceiling. I only fell off the latter twice, and the X-rays of my wrist didn't show any fractures.

When I stepped back to admire my work something didn't look right. On closer inspection the top foot or so of the walls were a darker hue, and smelled of burnt chicken too. No amount of scrubbing would fix it, because I'm telling you, I tried! Back to the hardware store I went!

I picked up a couple gallons of the finest paint to match the color of our walls. It must have been the good stuff too, because it was expensive, nothing but the best for me! Another buggy load of supplies was needed too, in view of the fact that I failed to clean up my equipment after the previous exhausting day, and I got in late from the emergency room. I found all my rollers stiff and dried paint in the pans. What a mess!

When I pulled up to the register with all my new gear, I could tell that the owner was warming to me. Perhaps Acme Rat Trap shares were up today?

Back home, I got busy and had the place repainted by early afternoon. The kitchen looked great, if not for the big smear of paint on the floor where I had fallen, it would have passed for perfect.

The next morning I tried to get that spot up......no luck! Back at the hardware store the proprietor greeted me with a smile, and offered me a cigar! He helped me pick out flooring that matched the sample I cut from the old one and assured me his crew would be there that very afternoon to install my new floor.

The restoration was almost complete and with three days to spare too! But, try as I might, another range hood to match the damaged one could not be found.

I took the damaged one off the wall, with much difficulty, and only got electrocuted twice! It occured to me to take the hood to my friendly neighborhood body shop, to see if they could repaint it. Once there, the body repair guy did a damage estimate, wrote up a quote and said, "Here you go Bud! Your insurance company is going to want three quotes but I'll bet I'll come in the lowest bidder."

"Insurance company? You, mean, file a claim?" I asked.

"Oh, yeah," he said, "this ain't the first range hood I've ever seen."

I should have thought of the insurance angle, but there was nothing to assess now, on account of I had done all the work, so I was out that money!

"The wife left you alone in the kitchen did she?" he asked.

Smart Alec!

Anyway, I didn't have time for an insurance adjuster!

"I need this in two days," I said, "do you think it will be finished ?"

"Two days, huh?" He took the quote back, scribbled "rush order charge" and entered a considerable amount beside the entry, re-totaled and handed the estimate back to me.

I almost fainted!

I put a substantial deposit down and he promised the hood would be sandblasted and repainted, good as new in two days.

Back home again, I met the flooring crew and while they installed the new linoleum I hid the evidence cleaned up and put away all my supplies.

The day my wife arrived home I was putting the last screw into the newly painted range hood. I slipped the screw driver into my back pocket and met her at the door!

"I'm so glad to be home!" she said. "Did you miss me?"

"Of course dear!"

The @#%$ cat shows up about that time to receive his share of affection!

This, ladies, is a good example of why you should never leave your man unsupervised!

By the way, I didn't get away with it!

I hope you enjoyed this little tale, and as always,

CARRY ON!

All photos courtesy of Pexels: Source Link