Sometimes though, I'm over enthusiastic in my desire to help and it probably makes me appear as a crazy person. Sadly, I am, and then it's just public knowledge.
A few days ago the husband came home for the weekend to help me around the house. The doctor told me no lifting, no exertion and no funny stuff (hubba hubba) for upwards of 12 weeks.
This is absolutely maddening, I'm the most hyperactive fat girl you will meet. I'm bouncy, suffer from anxiety and probably suffer from adult AD/HD.
He's moved out, taken the majority of our belongings (oh boy I have a mattress on the floor and a 10 year old t.v. without a DVD player) AND my car has broken down.
Yeah the car that was sitting for 15 months (busted) until I took in in 2 weeks ago to get fixed at long last.
.....(they kept it for a week, diagnose this - diagnose that. Oh we need a part that won't be in until...)
When at last the announcement that the hooptie was done I really was joyous. At long last there would be no sharing of the Ford, I could be free at last. The windows down and the wind blowing through my hair.
Why is it in the movies and on commercials beautiful women with long hair never seem to have their hair slapping them back in the face and getting tangled like mine does?
I pay the bill which is fair really though a huge crushing blow to the wallet. We do not use credit cards, in fact we do not own one between us. If we can't afford it we do without. It's been an interesting way to live and we do without a lot. I mean, 15 months the car sat!
Then again we always seemed to have a few dollars and then find cooler ways to spend it instead of fixing the car.
I get in, we drive a couple of miles and celebrate with a quick bite to eat and then part our separate ways, he to a doctor appointment and me back towards the house.
Uh oh, as I goose the gas a little bit to try to make it through an intersection the RPMs do not seem to have the get-up-and-go and the car is very sluggish, bogging down. Did I hear it stutter too?
Okay, well this IS understandable - the gas is very old and there is a little less than a quarter tank in there so maybe she's just thirsty and could use a bit of higher octane to clean out the pipes.
Making a left turn that leads back to our place and almost all the way through the turn she DOES stutter and at the completion of the turn the check engine light turns on and blugh blugh...poof the car shuts off and I have absolutely no power stearing and I'm trying to coast into a parking lot that happens to be right there.
Now this day, just like every day for the last 17, is over 100F.
SON OF A BITCH! I'm yanking the wheel and really trying to get it closer to the curb so that I'm not in the very center of this thoroughfare all the while swearing and beginning to sweat because there is no air passing through the vents any longer.
Let's remember I have a fragile constitution, I'm delicate so to speak. I don't panic (well...) but I am instantly mad as a hornet. This is just bullshit plus it would be a massive pain to telephone the husband because he was in a conference call on his way to the appointment and already several miles in the opposite direction.
It's the middle of the day, the couple of people I do know locally would never be able to get to me in time before I melted into a puddle of fat, hair and cotton t-shirt/jeans.
I have to call him anyhow.
Ring 1. Ring 2. Ring 3.
I don't expect him to answer while on a business call, but it will let him see the caller ID. Then I hang up to wait about 30 seconds to dial again.
This HOPEFULLY indicates an emergency!
" The fucking car is dead. I broke down at ....It's something like 2 billion degrees out, just turn around and come get me! "
While I wait out the 30 seconds I'm slapping in the reflective sunshade and hoping it reduces the temp inside the car to 1 billion. There's no way I want to step outside, I didn't put sunscreen on that day and the parking lot has a lot of blacktop.
The phone rings and I nearly jump out of my skin, it's him and I rapidly explain what has happened and demand his return. He complies and heads over, we drive to the house (FOR ONCE HE DID NOT GO TO THE STORE AND BUY ANOTHER GAS CAN. I think we have a dozen) and pick up the 2 gallon container that's in the garage.
Off to the gas station, oh by the way it was 1.25 miles away when this disaster happened.
I sit comfortably in the running Ford, blasting the radio which happens to be playing "Sweet Child of Mine". This is possibly one of the husband's most hated songs and I do a wicked impression of Axl Rose.
He nearly always lets me listen to it and then I sing and do the little funky snake dance he did in the video. I'm not a true fan of the band but who can forget a certain era of our youth and not want to boogie a bit?
Plus I could really use a stress reliever! (the Xanax is for later!)
After he's dumped the precious fuel into the tank I then wave at him and indicate there's no way in Hell I'm driving that car until it's properly fueled. He pulls it round and heads for the Shell station and he fills er' up with gas.
Glug glug glug it drinks it down and I tell him he can have it because I don't want to get half way home and have this happen to me again. Men can deal with this shit better than delicate flowers like me.
He spent the better part of the day with the car and returned home in the evening to say that everything was back to normal. However, he is not in tune with that bitch and I figured out within a weeks time that all was not well.
She's dead again and there is another fortune to spend but I can best leave that story for another day.
Sometimes you have to wonder how I get off on these tangents but I think I just explained that in paragraph 2.
Hubby is home and I need a few groceries to get me by until the next weekend he returns to visit. While he is home on these non-
He saves time and money eating home cooked food and not taking a short cut in the drive through.
We head over to the market on the other side of town because they carry a better selection of proteins. This is pretty important if you ask me, but if you only like hamburger and chicken breast then by all means the closer store would be the one for you.
The store that's farther away tends to be geared towards a culturally diverse neighborhood.
Up and down the aisles we are travel, pushing our buggy and eyeballing this and that. I don't use lists instead I decide the menu on the fly, it makes for more interesting meals and there isn't any rut.
This particular chain of stores runs pretty fantastic sales at times and this week they had a coupon that stated if you bought a particular brand of luncheon meat and cheese (slices) you would also get FOR FREE: mayonnaise, a loaf of bread, a lunch portion of microwavable macaroni and cheese AND an 8 oz box of Oreos.
SHIT FIRE, sign me up!
Mayo: $1.89, bread, $2.29, macNcheese, $0.89, Oreo's $1.69. You tell me, are you going to skip a deal like this just because this brand of lunch meat isn't your particular favorite?
Not I. Even though I usually go for the high end brand in the deli the lines were long and my wallet is short.
The only thing about this coupon is that you would have to hunt to find everything.
Up and down the aisles we go in search of our prizes. I am having a good time, laughing because we couldn't find the right size cookies. This is very important.
The only size they had on the shelf was 5 oz and that seemed like false advertising since the coupon even had a picture of the product (in a box) and the only type on the shelf were the mini grab bags.
We must have spent a good 5 or 6 minutes searching for the remaining items, husband's frustration was mounting because he really doesn't like the supermarket. I reckon that he thinks our kitchen is like the instant food machine from the Jetson's.
I open a door and Zing, out of thin air all of the goods come out for me to use.
Since he was starting to get petulant I pulled alongside a central area where they have cooks prepare little sample meals from recipes available to share with the public using store brands.
I inquire, "where in the heck do we find certain items because they don't seem to be on the shelves? maybe this sale is so good that all of them are sold out"
He looks at us like we are the dumbest shits left on Earth, turns his head casually to right and indicates the large refrigerated section (not but 8 feet from him).
Right there before our eyes. Cookies, bread, cheese, deli meat, mayo!!!The only thing missing was that damn macNcheese cup and I wasn't going to leave without it.
That's part of an entire meal for the husband, plus it's right down his alley for cooking technique. (boil 1/2 cup water, pour in cup, stir and eat)
We have our delectable prizes and begin our trip back down the lanes towards the check out registers when I pass by an older gal, she's loitering with her buggy a foot away from the macaroni and I spy in her basket....
BREAD, MAYO, CHEESE!
They weren't the same brands but I have to do something, I have to be helpful I have to alert her to the wonderful deal the market was offering this week.
There was enough extras there to satisfy any tightwad like me.
I snatch up the coupon which just so happens to be affixed to the shelving unit next to the pasta and approach her in my skipping bubbly way and place my hand upon the handle and say in a conspiratorial way...
"Did you know that there's this great coupon for all of the same things you have in your buggy? I mean, c'mon you could save so much money AND get free stuff. Heck all you have to do is buy this deli meat and even though its kind of a crappy brand (the husband bursts out laughing now) you could always make a sandwich for your husband or son. Heck, men don't care what they are eating! You REALLY need to use this coupon, don't pass up this great deal!"
This lady looks at me like I've gone out of my mind and protectively, white knuckled grasps the handle but listens intently. All the while you know who is laughing and he says, "you should get a commission for trying to sell this stuff"
She agrees and says, "I bet they'd give you a job"
I can tell this is going to be a battle I'll never win and I bid her a good day with a chuckle and tell her goodbye.
with a little wave she says, "Ummmm thanks."