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The Living Without Series

This is a series of posts that I wrote back in 2006 on living with less stuff. Check them out: liv011Living #2liv031liv04

Coal Creek Farm on Facebook

The Chicken Doctor

April

The Architect

Clay

I love you but…

you’ve got to stop doing this.

That’s what my husband said to me yesterday when he came to rescue my sorry butt for the fourth time in six months.
Since we’ve moved to Utopia, I’ve managed to become the local Lady in Distress.  First, it was a dead battery in the Wal-Mart parking lot, a van loaded to the gills with groceries and four hot children.  I called Clay, he had to drive all the way home to get the jumper cables and then come back to town to jump the van.  The kids and I were very grateful and he was, “Okay, love you guys, I gotta run, I’m late for a meeting”.  Sorry Hon.
The second time was during an Arctic wind-blast snow storm.  Same problem dead battery, but this time in the school parking lot.  I know, you would think someone would have jumper cables, uh like me, but not so much and I didn’t ask around farther than the secretary, because I didn’t want the people to know that I am the Lady in Distress.  Ya know?  And, why the heck don’t I have jumper cables?  Why?  So, again, I call my Knight in Shining Pickup to come rescue me.  Again, he has to drive all the way home and then to school and this time before coming he said, “You’re gonna have to wait til I’m done with my meeting.”  Dang it, but okay. So we waited inside the school until he got there.  We were late for our homeschool group, but what’s a Lady in Distress to do?  I’m at the mercy of my hero.  I’m the Lady in Distress and it’s my job to be stranded in need of assistance.  I play the roll quite well.  Sorry Hon, I know it was really cold that day and you didn’t have gloves on and even though I offered you mine, you toughed it out and wouldn’t let me stand out in the cold just to punish myself to suffer with you.  Sorry.
The third incident was a minor infraction on my part.  I was going 55 mph in a 35 mph zone.  I swear, I didn’t know.  I will admit I speed all the time, but when I saw the policeman’s light behind me I thought, “Oooh, sorry, I didn’t see you back there”, and I pulled over to get out of his way….yeah.  But, then I noticed him stopping behind me and I’m all like, “Whaaa?”  I had no idea why he was pulling me over.  Oh, the life of the blissfully unaware and ignorant.  The officer obviously knew I was the local Lady in Distress and lowered my speed from 55 mph to 45 mph because my fine would have been astronomical, thank you Mr. Officer, sir.  But, Clay was the one who had to go to the court house the day my ticket was due and pay the $90.  He never complained, just said, “Oh, I gotta go pay your ticket tomorrow.”  Sorry Hon, thanks for not making me schlep all the kids to the court house to pay my ticket.
And yesterday, oh yesterday, was my latest screw up.  I was at the grocery store and locked the keys in the van.  Gah!  Clay was in a meeting and had left his phone on his desk.  I hesitated to call him and thought of calling a locksmith, but every time one of those guys has unlocked my door they screw up the lock and it costs me 40 bucks to pay him to mess up the door and another 50 or more to fix the darn thing, believe me, I know these things.  I also thought of calling a taxi, but with three kids, myself and all our groceries, uh,no, not gonna do that.  So, I called Clay.  And I called Clay.  And I called Clay.  No answer.  Finally, his intern got concerned that Clay’s phone kept ringing so she took it to Clay and said in her Russian accent, “Um, Cleey?  Is every-ting okay at ome?  Abril as called about tweeny times.”  And that my friends, is why Clay’s intern will forever think of me as the Woman Who Calls Her Husband Twenty Times A Day.  Lord have mercy.
After waiting for about thirty minutes with the shopping cart full of groceries outside the store, the kids and I found a bench to sit on and I rummaged through the grocery sacks to retrieve the bag of candy I bought, Thank You Jesus for that moment of weakness.  We ate candy, played twenty questions and waited.  Finally, Clay called and again, he had to go all the way home to get the spare key, because we never want to be prepared for an emergency…ever and then he had to drive back to town and unlock the van.  We were so happy to see him.  We had been at the grocery store nearly two hours, fun stuff.  That’s when he looked at me and said, “Listen, I love you but…..you’ve got to stop doing this.”  I know, sorry Hon.  As he drove off he called me.  I thought, “Ahhh, he’s calling to tell me how much he loves rescuing me and that no matter how irritating I am, I’m so worth the trouble.” But instead he said, “Is the van starting?”  He wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to call for him to come back.  Smart man that Clay.  sniff sniff
I was feeling pretty bad this morning about how stupid I’ve been and how I must certainly be the most helpless wife on the planet and if my husband didn’t know better he’d think I was getting myself into these situations just to spend more time with him or get attention.  Then my mom called.
Mom- Hi it’s your momma.
Me- Hi Mom.
Mom- Do you have a house full of people?
Me- ??? uh, no the boys are playing outside.
Mom- Oh, well, I didn’t want to bother you if you were busy.  Will it be okay if I come on Saturday, I think we need to get some things done.
Me- What?  You’re coming on Saturday?  I thought you weren’t coming until next week?
Me-  Mom?  Mom?  THIS IS APRIL!
Mom-  WHAT?  Oh, for crying out loud, I’ve called the wrong kid!  I am such a hair brain.  I have been in such a tizzy all day.
Me- Mom you just made me feel better about myself, thank you.
Sigh, see?  I come by it honestly.  It’s not my fault.  It’s genetic.  Right?  Right?  What?  No?  Huh?
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