Too awesome! You've got friends here who are just like you, who know your pain, but who are not likely to be able to help you (at least to kick the habit (maybe help hook you up, though)). I've been slowly accumulating cordage of all types, and I thought I was doing it on the sly until the Missus caught me with 30 feet of Amsteel and shouted, "Just how much rope do we need!?!" I know... she called amsteel rope. She also calls mule tape, paracord, mason's line, and polyesther webbing rope as well--it's painful to hear. Even when she calls braided nylon rope "rope" that bothers me, but I think it's just a knee-jerk emotional response by this point. I pray that she is not doing this merely to be hurtful.
I don't know what the disconnect is. I thought she would be thrilled when 900+ feet of mule tape showed up in the mail (from a very generous member of this forum to help get some scouts up off the ground (thanks again, John)), and I was equally surprised when she was nonplussed at my retiring to the garage to sort it all out, and when she gave me a look that a person might give to someone who just asked if they'd like to kiss a tarantula when all I selflessly had asked was "Feel how awesome this is; wanna bundle some up too?", I realized that she had a significant problem. Obviously, I have no idea who this woman is, but this I do know--she has threatened me with death if she finds one more stash in an air conditioning duct, toilet tank, refrigerator (bottom shelf way in the back... what kind of person GOES there anyway?), floorboard, or "rope rack" (I figured if I hide new stuff behind the old stuff she'd never notice, but her inventory skills are as sharp as mine). It's just a matter of time... Death is coming.
'Cause quitting is not an option.
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Originally Posted by timabababaluka
H.Y.O.H.
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