ONE SATURDAY MORNING, I basked, half-asleep, in the golden autumn light streaming through the bedroom window. I was dimly aware of the muffled chatter of migrating geese somewhere overhead. Blasting into this pastoral setting came the scream of a power saw. "What the ... @#$%?" I managed to blurt while executing a perfect face plant on the floor. "Jackie," I whispered, rubbing my bruised cheek, "I think there's somebody outside on the deck." Struggling to my knees, I peeked over the crest of the bed. Oh-oh. No Jackie. The covers on her side were turned up and my lovely wife was nowhere to be seen. Not a good sign. And there it was again, the whine of cold steel tearing through lumber. Misgivings were causing familiar and unpleasant stirrings in the pit of my stomach. It felt as though there were a box of writhing snakes down there, along with a vat of lime Jell-O. Oh, please, don't let it be what I think it is! "Hey, Dad, Mom says she's got a surprise for you on the deck. You gotta check this out." Karl had bounded up the stairs with the message, and his grin confirmed my worst suspicions. Another of Jackie's spontaneous projects was underway. Perspiring freely, I threw on some clothes. As I headed downstairs, I drew some deep, rhythmic breaths to steel myself for the confrontation. "Well, what do you think, Mark?" She was standing with one hand on her hip, the other gripping the handle of my power saw, and she was beaming. There was a ragged, gaping, 10-foot hole where the railing had been. "Some view, eh?" "Wow. That's, um, really amazing." It was coming back to me now. I was recalling the warning signs. "Wouldn't it be nice," she had said, "if we could see more of the trees, the yard, and the barn from our deck?" Of course, I hadn't been paying attention. After 19 years and countless surprises, you'd think I would realize I'm married to Action Woman. You'd think I'd try to stay ahead of the game, by getting down poly and masking tape before the paint flies, or mounting Teflon sliders under major appliances in advance of a kitchen makeover. Somehow, Jackie's always one step ahead of Relaxation Man (that would be me), and those simple little preparatory measures never get done. "All we need are stairs and more wood, and this deck will look marvelous," Jackie bubbled, as she set down the saw to give me a big hug. This was my cue to get to work and finish off the job. I glimpsed Karl at the kitchen window. He smiled sympathetically. Dad wasn't going to get out of this one. But Relaxation Man had a glimmer of hope. Weren't those gathering clouds in the sky? Wasn't that breeze a bit icy? Was that winter in the air? Maybe the deck renovations could wait until, say, spring. "Sweetheart, I think a storm's coming. It looks like snow. Can I get to this later?" "You don't have to do it this minute, Mark. You know that." (Translation: Do it ASAP.) "And Mark, you know how I hate those ugly kitchen cabinets. Well, I've been thinking. How do you feel about folk art?" Ouch. There went those snakes again. - MARK BEHREND