Can I tell my favorite story about my mother?

So I was woken up one Saturday morning during my teenage years by the sound of the radial saw. It will tell you what you need to know about my mother that I could not only identify the radial saw by sound, but I knew it was her.

I went downstairs to find the house full of dust, and my mother using the radial saw on a wall, high up against the ceiling. I waited until she turned it off, and asked, “Mom, what are you doing?”

“Oh, I thought I’d take out a wall.”

I then asked a really, really stupid question, fully earning the snarky answer I received. “Does Dad know you’re doing this?”

“No, I thought I’d surprise him.”* She then picked up a sledgehammer and sunk it into the wall. “This is really therapeutic! Do you want to give it a try?”

To my everlasting regret, I didn’t. I still kick myself for that. I love my mother.

*They had discussed it at length and checked to be sure it wasn’t a bearing wall.