Did I mention that, yesterday, as I staggered around doing laundry and trying to get our house fit for company, DH looked at me and said, "Don't you think you're overdoing it?"
Now, here's the deal. (Don't quote this part) I don't really have a bazooka. (You can quote now.) But, inspired as I was, a bazooka was neither necessary nor desired; hands on throat would have been JUST the tool for the job. Tragically, however, I lack also an excavator attachment for the tractor so...disposal...would have been extremely difficult. And I would have to drive today. Which I hate. I won't tell you which was the deciding factor in allowing him to live.