Grandpa in his Sunday best on a ladder can only mean one thing. Trouble. He is not much of a carpenter, but then neither am I. Between the two of us we managed to get the new french doors installed.
We shooed the kids off to the beach. Then some feathered friends came by to watch. I went inside for a glass of lemonade and heard a big CRACK!
I thought maybe Grandpa had fallen off the ladder? Or the kids threw a ball at the door? Or maybe a seagull crashed into the door because the glass was SO clean? What happened, I asked? Then I saw who the culprit was...
My not so trusty clamp had popped off, hit the glass and cracked it. No one was talking. Not even Fiasco. It's better that way.
I guess I'll have to admit that it was MY fault. I could just cry.
Live and learn,