Today we’re headed to see the house the carpenter A wants to build our house is currently building. A says we need to bring him a case of beer. Fine. He starts giving me directions on what to buy “Make sure it’s real beer. None of that happoshu fake stuff. He hates that. Get a case, you know a box, not blah, blah, blah…” A case of beer is not light, and it is snowing like a mother. Darling husband, just go into the store and buy it yourself! So he does. And then my big, burly husband comes out of the shop with the skinny shop boy carrying the case of beer, and has him load it into the car. Touche!
So we’re driving now to go and see the house and like I said, it is snowing like a mother, even for Nagano, this is a big snowfall, and hub is swearing and cursing at every driver in front of us and their slow (?! I prefer the word cautious) asses. Yes, everyone is driving slowly, but dude, it’s because they want to live to see tomorrow, and preferably not from a hospital bed. I know he’s worried about pissing off the ornery craftsman, but if he can’t understand this weather holding us up, I’m not sure I want him building my house. I most definitely place the safety of my children over some old guy’s cranky ego. So chill daddy-o!