I don't know why I suddenly remembered this story. Maybe because it is spring, and in spring firewood is about the last thing I think of, yet today in my travels I saw someone getting a truckload of firewood delivered. This happened very early on, perhaps even before we were Officially Married, so we're talking WELL over twenty years ago.
Anyway, Back In the Day, Mojo and her Favorite Husband were this cooperative machine-like team when it came to firewood. (Well, we still are, only lately we've gotten lazy and have it delivered instead of wasting our spare time scrounging around for it. But I digress.) We were renting a house with a wood stove in the basement. The Favorite Husband's job was to cut and collect the firewood from somewhere on the property, throw it in the pickup, drive back to the house, back up to the cellar hatchway and fling the firewood down into the cellar. My job was to lurk in the cellar and stack the wood while avoiding getting beaned with the firewood my Favorite Husband was flinging down upon me. You can probably surmise where this story is going to go, knowing the way Mojo's luck generally runs, but THIS time the story will run COUNTER to your guess!