My response was always the following: (SHOULDER SHRUG)
What the hell do I know about such hoosafudge? Nuthin', that's what. The full sum of knowledge I have about cable is that 1) it comes on when I push a button on the remote. 2) Each month I receive a bill from it. 3) My cable box reboots itself waaaaaaaaay the fuck more than I think it should. 4) I ain't got it in my bedroom.
That taps me out on my cable knowledge.
...Until yesterday baby!
Double D several weeks ago said, 'let there be cable'!! Fine. He didn't say those actual words. ...But just for a second didn't you think he had the voice of God, or at least James Earl Jones? See. That was fun, even if it really wasn't accompanied by thunder claps or anything. But he did say that could be done and that he was doin' it.
A few days later we were out and about and found ourselves in a shopping center that happened to have a Radio Shack. Next thing I know we're pickin' out cable line and some magical doohickey called a splitter.
Double D has been working some crazy ass hours of late. How crazy? Friday 7A-3P, Saturday 1A-8A, Sunday 6A-6P, Monday 7A-3P. (Yeah. Craaaaaaazy.) And I'd much rather spend our time together doing anything other than chores for heavens sakes, so I hadn't mentioned squat about it. Every several days or so he'd mention it though. I could tell accomplishing bedroom cable was high on his to-do list. Plus, ya know. You're either someone who says what they mean and means what they say, or you're not. You're in charge of you.
Yesterday, after that work schedule my man came home, sat down, smooched me, chatted about our days and then he looked around the room and said, "ok, we're doin' this". And kids, it was on! Extension cord, drill, moving of things, attic climbin' (on the second hottest day of the year) ta-doin's.
(Double D peekin' into the attic)
That man is crafty. Snaking wire and doing stuff and junk. Post haste BBG had cable in her room.
Yep. It's like that.
Big ass gold star to Double D for TCB'n.