This past week, I have been unable to use my car and it’s just like I’m a pioneer woman on the plains.
So hard. It’s been so very hard. I get you, pioneer woman, and you at least had a horse. Soon, I’m going to start churning butter and wearing aprons all the time and saying things like, “Jebediah? Check the almanac for today’s weather.” And so on.
At one point, the boys and I did bundle up and set out to the Dollar General to buy Valentines cards. This was, alas, on Valentines Day Eve, because we like put things off until the verrrry last minute to keep life fun, and the only Valentines they had left were a couple of boxes of Frozen 2 ones, and something with ponies on it. Both boys were adamantly opposed to these options, so instead we cut out hearts out of good old-fashioned construction paper, which takes me right on back to the pioneer woman thing. We should done all this by candlelight while my husband, Jebediah, read the bible to us, but alas.
It was done with regular lighting and my husband’s name is Brian.
In fact, he is super careful about reminding me of that:
So, it seems this is how this conversation went with the flower lady:
Hubster; Hi! I need to order flowers for my wife. My wife, DANA, by the way. Her name is DANA. That’s my WIFE. And my name is BRIAN.
Flower lady: Sure
Hubster: So! I am ordering them! Me! The HuBsteR – BRIAN. Make sure and put that on there, that this is from her HUSBAND BRIAN.
Hubster: Because OTHERWISE SHE MIGHT GET MIXED UP.
It’s true, in marriage it is always good to be very clear about things.
It is also true that my husband is adorable and wonderful. And I made him these:
This is because I, the Wife, DANA, am also wonderful. And it wouldn’t be Valentines Day without carbs.
Back to the car issue because I know you’ve been worried. There was a weird battery glitch that actually locked the doors, even manually, and basically no one believed me.
I called the husband BRIAN and told him that I couldn’t open the car doors, even with a key. And, because we have such massively good communication skills, he said,
“Well, did you try the key?”
Annnnnd we were off and running. Yes, I explained that I did, IN FACT, push the key INTO the lock because I am not an idiot, and it would not turn and no it’s not frozen and I tried the de-icer AND YES ALSO THE HAIR DRYER thing, which is so fun because nothing says “You’re having a great morning, aren’t you?” like hooking up the extension cord and giving your car door a blowout at seven am.
But the conversation with the husband BRIAN continued like this:
Well, but surely the door is just frozen; take a hair dry-
I DID THAT.
Ok, so maybe just try the back doo-
Ok, but you shou-
DID THAT DID THAT I DID THAT DID IT DID IT DIDIT
It took BRIAN coming home and breaking the handle off the car door before he believed me. And I think I should be commended because I did not mention to him that not believing me just cost us actual dollar bills. So, then, we called the repair/locksmith/insurance people and none of THEM believed us either.
Repetition is key, friends. Repetition is KEY. Because:
Life is just one big slew of repeating yourself to people until they decide to stop messing with you.
Somebody crochet that on a pillow.
And so finally the POLICE decided to help us because we were desperate and honestly? I think the police are just really thrilled to get calls like this instead of the “please come my roommate is brandishing a knife” kind of thing. So this happened after the nice policeman did in fact ask me ALL THE SAME QUESTIONS AGAIN. I didn’t even go into the hair dryer thing this time, but still. I did gesture morosely at the broken door handle and mentioned that my husband, BRIAN, might have broken it whilst trying to “fix” all of this, and he chuckled.
“Oh Brian,” he said.
So, then this happened and I waved at my neighbor as she drove by. Just a typical Monday. The police are breaking into my own car.
And it worked! And I hugged the nice police officer who did tell me that he’s never seen a car that did this which was somehow validating. “That thing was SEALED,” he shook his head. “Weird.”
Yes, we have a weird car. Figures.
But then, when I called the Hubster, BRIAN, to tell him all of this because our local police department just managed to save us some serious money in towing fees, BRIAN decided to ask me this:
“So, how did he manage to get the door open?”
I should have known this question would happen, as BRIAN is an engineer and asks a whole lot of questions.
“Oh! It was this cool thingie that he, you know, sorta stuck in there and there was a squeezie thing too? That went with it? And he… uh… squeezed it?” And I gestured with one hand a sort of squeezing motion but this wouldn’t really help since we were on the phone. “You know, it was a squeeze thing!?”
Hubster: Yea, I gotta go.
Me: Oh. Ok. Well it was exciting. We’ll talk about the squeezie thing tonight.
Hubster: My name is Brian.