Some people will do anything to save a buck.

I'm referring to myself, of course. The home inspector found just a couple of minor things that need to be fixed in our crawl space before we close on our home. I figured why pay someone else perfectly good money to do something when you can send your husband under there to set things straight. And seriously, how many people own such an official looking shirt with their name on it? The thought of clambering around in the crawl space almost makes me sick to my stomach because I know that is where the inhabitants of Spider Alley originate, but Dayven was up to the challenge. Armed and dangerous with a utility knife, duct tape, a broom (for wiping cobwebs) safety glasses and a headlamp, he set forth to investigate what needed repairing. I kneeled down in the grass and peered in for a while, offering helpful suggestions like "Watch out for that pipe!", then grew bored with the whole process and overheated, so I decided to go back inside where it was cool. It's always a little risky to leave Wyatt alone for too long anyway. When I went back inside, I found him in the dining room trying to unwrap some of his birthday presents. I could hear all sorts of banging going on under the house so I figured progress was being made. An hour later, Dayven stumbled out drenched in sweat, smudged with dirt and wiping imaginary cobwebs off of himself, declaring victory. He is confident that all of the problems have been tackled so we are one step closer to passing this crib off to it's new owner.