Failure Point

For the last twenty-five years or so, CoolGuy has been involved with testing and engineering in his job. He has spent a lot of time running systems until they reach a failure point. This allows the designers to know the capabilities, or lack thereof, in a particular system. It's important to know just how much capacity is available in almost anything, so you know if you are nearing the limit. I think I found CoolGuy's limit this week.

I've noted before how he seems to find just the right thing to say---

When I was feeling particularly morose over having to give away my cute shoes collection:
"You know why you have those terrible feet, don't you?  It's because the rest of you is so awesome that God had to find some way to keep you humble."

Once when I was getting ready to go to work:
"Where do you keep your fire extinguisher?"  HUH? he went on..."Because surely you need to wear one clipped your belt or something, since you're looking so hot."

When he brought me lunch at school:
"Gosh, your co-workers are so nice to you. Usually when one person is so much better looking than the rest, it creates a little hostility."

Yeah, yeah, yeah.... 

However, despite his ability to pull off the glib remarks all these years, this week I succeeded in rendering him speechless. See, a couple of days ago, I woke up, wandered into the bathroom, and, as I attempted to sit down, I lost my balance a little, (dumb feet) and sort of half-fell onto the toilet seat. And. it. cracked.

Yes, I cracked the toilet seat.

I couldn't believe it. I mean, it's made of wood. I'm a little---ahem---heavier--than I'd like to be. But even all the times I was pregnant and weighed this much,  and maybe sat down a little harder than I intended in my state of expectancy-induced clumsiness, I have never cracked a toilet seat!!!!

 So when CoolGuy got home a little while later from his morning coffee run, I told him about it. I'm so sorry I didn't have a camera, still or video, available immediately. Video would have been awesome! The look on his face was priceless. He valiantly struggled to avoid bursting out in laughter. He had to put his finger on his lips to stifle his smile, and he coughed as a small guffaw leaked out. He turned a little red, and he started to say something a couple of times. He stepped forward, then backward, and finally just shook his head, and said, "I'm sorry. I'm going to need a few moments to process this one." And he dashed into his office, out of sight. IT WAS HILARIOUS!

So, if I were to write the engineering report for this toilet-seat episode, I'd conclude that I have definitely found what causes the failure of the Just-right-make-your-wife-feel-good Rhetoric Area of the CoolGuy brain.