The Counter Tops and a Sexy Beast

Hello, Ladies.  I'm The Ken.

You may know me from such places as, "Practically Every Blog Post My Woman Writes" and "Every Home Improvement Dream You Have In Which A Virile Man Figures Prominently".


Yesterday, while Cari was in New York, visiting her cousin and spending the day doing things like this:

I was at home, manfully tending to an insurance adjuster's visit, a daughter's 4H activity, and the general care and feeding of my many offspring.


Also, I was putting the finishing touches on the kitchen counter top that I sanded, cut, and refinished in my spare time.  Because that's what "virile" means.  Having strength and energy.  And some other things, but this is a family blog with close to two underage readers, so we'll stop the vocabulary lesson there.


When my woman came home from the city, I welcomed her back to a clean house, well fed, clean children who kissed her goodnight and cheerfully went to bed, and then I revealed the oaky fruit of my labors.

She was, as always, in awe of both my massive skill set and her good fortune at having married a man such as myself.  Cashing in on her gratitude, I made her watch "Wild Wild West" on Netflix, and soon found her sound asleep, snoring.


I let her rest up.  It's hard work being so constantly overwhelmed by my rugged awesomeness.