Long story short, I promised one of my art groups we would store some wall panels here at the shop. Told The Hubby for a couple of months we would be doing it, he was like yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever. He neglected to tell me that the door had some issues and there was a pair of vice grips on the door for some reason only he and the guys knew about. Well, the panels were here to be stored so I went out and pushed the button to open the very large overhead door and pop, pop, groan, like old heavy overhead doors do. It was open and didn't pay attention to the vice grips, besides I could NOT open the thing as it was opening. (Nothing but very strong guys around here.) We stored the panels and I was saying bye to Ken as the door went down, and screeched, and a fell, the wire cord broke and the bottom panel is smashed. The door absolutely was destroyed. My heart jumped into my mouth. CRAP, CRAP, CRAP! How was I going to explain this and he will NEVER let me live it down. He will bring this one incident up again and again and again to throw at me if I screw up. Dang it.
I sat here at my desk and worried and worried. My stomach lurched and groaned like that stupid door. My heart was thudding and I KNOW my blood pressure was up! Should I call him. Should I text him and leave for several hours. Hide out. CRAP! Then, as I was texting a friend all this, in the door he walked. I said I have to tell you something and did. He said how bad and I said BAD. He wanted me to show him and tell him what happened but I didn't want to. I didn't want to be close enough to hear him roar in my ear but he did anyway. He wanted to show me how to work the damned vice grip which I STILL don't know how to work exactly.
He yelled, he huffed but I'm still standing and he has Overhead Door called and coming out to fix or repair or something and I tell you I will NEVER EVER open that door again, EVER!