It's Tool Time at the Kells Residence

Do you remember a popular television show that ran in the '90s called “Home Improvement”?

Tim Allen's character (Tim the Tool Man) was a home improvement television show host who was fond of grunting like a pig when he was in the presence of power tools. He also bumbled almost every project he laid his hands on. He'd often invite his sidekick, Al, to help him do something foolish, causing Al to say, “I don't think so, Tim” on a somewhat regular basis.

Many people watched the show and laughed, not realizing how accurate Tim's portrayal of a man (and possibly some women) can be when home improvement is involved. I was reminded of it when Matt wanted to take on tiling our kitchen floor.

Normally, going shopping with him is as enjoyable as having a root canal without pain medicine. But once he stepped inside the doors at Home Depot, he seemed to become a different person. His eyes glazed over, and he looked as if he'd just witnessed Moses parting the Red Sea.

I wish whatever it is they're pumping through the ventilation system at Home Depot could be shared with the grocery store and malls. I could actually enjoy shopping with Matt. Sadly, it seems to be non-transferable.

He gently coaxed a bright orange cart out of its corral, and walked reverently through the brightly lit store, occasionally stopping to pick up some gadget or another. As he held it in his hand, he grunted in obvious approval.

We finally managed to get to the tile area; of course, not without stopping to marvel at a variety of tools and gadgets whose use was lost on me. The happy grunting continued.

Little did I know that there would be so many tiles to choose from; nor did I know about the cornucopia of tools that would be required to do the job. I was actually able to decide which tile I liked well before Matt was finished shopping for the necessary equipment.

That was something that had never happened before in our married life; me picking anything out before he was ready to bolt for the door.

He picked up what looked like a bacon press to me, but I was wrong. It was a notched trowel, used to spread something called grout. Apparently, we also needed spacers, a float, sponges, nippers, sealers, and the list went on.

We also needed what looked like an over grown pumice stone to me, but it turned out to be a grit sanding and rubbing stone. I'm glad I found that out before I tried to use it on my fingernails.

When I finally managed to get him out of the store (which seemed to take hours), we came home and he set about tiling the kitchen floor. I could have sworn I heard him making more happy grunting noises. Unfortunately, hours later, we needed a few more tiles, and Matt asked if I'd like to come along to get them.

And that's when I said, “I don't think so, Tim."