Let me first say that I love my husband and the situations he gets himself into always end up being a good story, even if it doesn’t seem that way at the time.
Just your normal Saturday…being lazy and staying in your PJ’s until you just absolutely have to take a shower and get dressed…unless you are called out of the house immediately and have no time to even brush your teeth or put on a bra.
Brent bought a new riding lawn mower yesterday and it is being delivered today. He is so excited about it that he is going to take a ride on it in the back yard as soon as it gets here. I don’t blame him-he’s waited nearly 3 years for some relief to cutting our huge backyard. He says he’s actually looking forward to cutting the grass this year. Brent’s agenda for the day was to study his Sunday school lesson, get gas for the mower, and clean out a space in the garage for it. While I was feeding Lily around lunch time, Brent took a shower then began preparing for his SS lesson. I was very ready to get a shower and Lily was being fussy, so I knew Brent would have to watch her while I took a shower. Therefore, I had to wait until Brent was done with the SS lesson to get a shower. It seemed like it took him FOREVER to study his lesson, but in reality I was just that ready to not feel gross anymore. He told me that when he was done, he would take Lily so I could get a shower. Well, he was done with his SS lesson and thought he could run down to the Texaco and get gas real quick before I got in the shower. I didn’t mind, I was trying to make a grocery list and put Lily down for a nap. He headed down to the gas station and I finally got Lily quiet and asleep. Not even 5 minutes later I hear my phone ring, but I missed the call because I couldn’t find my phone. I didn’t recognize the number so I didn’t care to call back–whoever it was left a message, so I planned to just check it later. The same number called back less than 30 seconds later. I still didn’t answer (I don’t answer numbers that I don’t recognize), but just as it stopped ringing, it dawned on me that the phone call was probably from Brent…why else would the person call back so quickly? I checked the message and sure enough, it was Brent informing me that he was at the Texaco and had locked his keys and phone in the car. He needed me to come pick him up.
I’m still in my PJs…hair hasn’t been touched, teeth haven’t been brushed. I have on black PJ pants with very busy hot pink polka dots all over them, one of Brent’s blue t-shirts that is sticking out from his oversized hunter green sweatshirt, white socks, and some tennis shoes that I threw on. Oh yeah…no bra. Looking pretty rough and feeling pretty yucky. I wake up a sweet sleeping baby, load her in the car seat, grab my keys and go. Poor Lily was confused and very upset. As I’m driving I see my poor husband walking home and as I get closer, he just stops in his tracks and starts laughing. I’m not. I’m wishing he had let me get a shower BEFORE he went to the gas station…like he said I could. So, I pick him up and drop him off at the Texaco with a key to the car. Where does he go to get his keys??? THE TRUNK! Yes, he locked his cell phone and keys in the trunk of the car. I thought for sure it wasn’t his fault and the old car locked the doors on its own (it can do that). I was wrong. He popped the trunk to get the gas can out, laid the keys and phone in the trunk, all the while thinking, “I’ll remember to get them out when I put the gas can back in the trunk.” Nope, that’s not what happened Brent. Instead, you put the gas can back in the trunk and closed it, then thought, “Oh crap, my phone and keys are in there.” He called me twice from the gas station (he didn’t tell them he was making a long distance call–I still have a Bham area code) and since I didn’t answer, he was afraid I wouldn’t get the message, so he started home. We only live about 2 miles from the Texaco, so the walk wouldn’t have been too bad. The weather is perfect for a walk outside anyway. Thankfully, his sweet UGLY wife came to his rescue. Have I had a shower yet?…nope. I had to blog first.