Sometimes, I Am Right

So, yesterday afternoon I'm marking papers at the kitchen table and Main Man is doing yardwork in the backyard. Suddenly he stomps in, kicks #1 off the computer, sits down, and proceeds to hammer away at the keyboard.

Knowing him well enough to know when not to engage him in conversation, I continue with my papers, but curiously glance over at the monitor to ascertain what exactly he's doing.

Turns out, he's trying to find out how to replace the chain on the chainsaw.

He works away at the keys for at least 20 minutes, puffs of frustration floating out of his ears. Then, just as suddenly as he came in, he stands up, stomps back out, and slams the door behind him.

I tentatively head out and ask if there's anything I can do to help. His eyes jerk up from the pile of chainsaw pieces on the picnic table to look at me, seemingly unaware that I was there until that moment.

He asks me to hold a certain piece steady while he tightens a bolt. "That can't be how it goes," he mutters under his breath. He decides to loosen the bolt he just tightened. He picks up the chain, and finds that it is full of kinks. He spends five minutes straightening it out.

I hold the greasy, slimy chain steady as he makes another attempt to attach it in the right place. I think I see something helpful and suggest it. He snaps, "I've already tried that." Again, he takes apart what he had put together.

I suggest I check inside for the maintenance manual. He comments, "We'll never be able to find that."

I reply, "Well, it can't hurt to try."

I walk into the house, wash the greasy dirt off my hands, and head to the filing cabinet in the bedroom to check our folder of owner's manuals. I open the file and there, right on top, is the manual for the chainsaw. Victory!

I take it outside and flip to find the page we need. I begin to read the instructions to Main Man, and he snorts, " I just need to know how to get the chain on."

So I stop reading aloud and skim to find exactly the information he needs. I think I find the part we need, but, not being much of a chainsaw expert myself, I hesitantly read the confusing instructions aloud, hoping he understands better than I do.

After I read the same line several times, Main Man proceeds to loop the chain in place, intending to attach the chainguide after. I repeat the same line from the instructions once more, the one that says to attach the chainguide first, then the chain. He is clearly doing the opposite of what the instructions say. I offer no commentary. I simply reread the line from the instructions once more.

He tightens the bolts and finds something has fallen out of place. He peers defeatedly into the mechanism for a moment or two, then proceeds to disassemble the machine yet again.

"What are you doing now?" I inquire, exasperated.

With a sheepish smile, he looks at me and replies. "You were right. I'm doing it your way."

He was cutting wood in eight minutes.