Yep, I Married A Real Man

I know this because, when told by our dryer repair man (who had been over three times in three weeks) that we needed to call a chimney sweep to clear out our filthy vent, Jay did no such thing. Instead, he went into the garage, found a big tank of compressed CO2 and let 'er rip into the vent.

I wish I had been standing outside to witness the quick exit of packed lint, as the resulting scene outside reminded me of a winter wonderland. Except it was made of gray lint instead of snow. I could have created yarn and knitted a mountain of blankets from the "wool". (Good thing I don't have that kind of time on my hands.)

I also wish I knew if our brand new neighbors happened to see this gigantic belch of filth emanating from the Di Silvestri house. Because it just might have served as an ominous warning of what life might be like living next door to us.