Grenade

The song "Grenade" by Bruno Mars came on the radio yesterday afternoon while Hubs and I were driving. In case you are not familiar, the chorus of the song goes like this:

I’d catch a grenade for ya (yeah, yeah, yeah)

Throw my hand on a blade for ya (yeah, yeah, yeah)
I’d jump in front of a train for ya (yeah, yeah , yeah)
You know I'd do anything for ya (yeah, yeah, yeah)
Oh, oh
I would go through all this pain,
Take a bullet straight through my brain,
Yes, I would die for ya baby;
But you won't do the same

And Hubs shakes his head and says "That's stupid! When would he ever need to catch a grenade to show his love? Will he do the dishes for her? Will he clean up dog poop for her? Cause that's real love."

So true. So true.

Why were we in the car, you may ask, when I had widely reported that yesterday afternoon was scheduled to be Phase 1 of "Operation Apartment Deep Clean"?
We got home from church after having gotten up early to go to the first service so we could have a full day to clean, and started the project with the very basics: take out the trash and recycling on our way out the door to take Auggie for his afternoon walk.

Operation Deep Clean began at 1:15 pm and ended at 1:18 pm when Hubs sliced a deep gash in his thumb while emptying our recycling bin into the big recycling dumpsters. Dog food can. Blood. Swooning. He sat down on the steps while I called his mom (a general practice physician). We decided that it would take as long to be seen in an ER as to drive out to Naperville to have his mom take a look, so we piled a confused AugDog into the car and drove out to the burbs for some professional first aid.

By the time we arrived, his mom had assembled an array of gauze, bandages, wound cleaner, oral antibiotics, and a tetanus shot (Doctor in the family = Bonus!) for our woozy dear Hubs. He had done well in the car, and thanks to the frozen bag of edamame he had draped over his paper-toweled hand, the bleeding had pretty much subsided by the time we got there.

It was really weird to see his mom treat his cut. It was bad. Deep, hit a vein, but in the fold of his thumb where it couldn't be stitched. I clutched AugDog to my chest so he wouldn't be underfoot, and watched Hubs writhe a little bit when she cleaned it out and dried it and bandaged it. And he got a tetanus shot, and some giant antibiotic pills to take, just in case.

After we determined that he and his thumb were going to be fine, his mom and I took Auggie out to their yard to romp around and chase ducks and enjoy the sunshine while Hubs printed out some stuff he needed for his writing. We didn't stay long, and were back in the city by 6:30. Hubs was pretty much out of commission for the main Deep Clean tasks he had assigned himself: dishes and installing the air conditioner units.

But he was determined. Since our rubber gloves were too small for him, we rubber-banded a plastic bag to his wounded hand and he manged to load the dishwasher while I overhauled our bedroom closet and laundry situation. Then we did manage to tackle some piles in the living room. So, not exactly the Deep Clean we had imagined. But we did get to enjoy some beautiful driving weather and spend some unexpected time with his fam.

So yeah, that "Grenade" song is pretty silly, but it turns out he DID throw his hand on a blade for me after all. While taking out the trash.

That's love.