Friday, August 8, 2008

A series of vignettes

Andy is gone. For the weekend. And I'm out of stuff I can do for school while I'm at home. So I'm free, free as a bird right now. Well. Except that I need to go to the bank and take care of a few things. But, you know. Pretty free. So I'm going to write a few short stories that have brought me great pleasure or laughter recently.

STORY 1: Die toilette

Last fall, when we moved into this house, we knew that the bathroom floor had rotted through, and we needed to replace it. So we did. And all sorts of problems occurred after. The terribly inept man that our realtor recommended had seated our toilet to make a long story short, every so often our toilet started rocking and leaking all over the floor. We had to re-seat it like once every other month. Andy and I got really good at sitting very gingerly on it, so as not to make it angry.

Wednesday night it started rocking. And leaking. And Mr. Husband got so darned mad that he took the whole thing off the floor and stuck it in the shower. Leaving it so that I could not shower or go to the bathroom. He was planning to call a plumber in the morning, and have them fix it for good. So we left, went to T and MJ's house for dinner as planned and that was that.

Well, I happened to mention that we were san toilet while we were there. And they were rather concerned....because we were eating black beans and brown rice for dinner. So they called up R, a neighbor of ours and a friend from church who knows how to fix everything under the sun. And he came right over and he and Andy and T fixed the problem. The very way it should have been fixed the first time. But peeps--it's fixed! Like for good. And it only cost us a wax ring.

It's a beautiful thing, to look inside your bathroom and see your toilet on the floor as it should be. I am just so, so thankful for the friends we have. God has definitely blessed us with these people.
STORY 2:The book
Last weekend, we were at a wedding in West Lafayette. While we were waiting, I suggested we go check out the little bookstore section that the church had (Lauren, we were at your church). Andy found a book for husbands that he started to thumb through.

He found a section that he stopped to ask me about. It had stated something that most wives would not appreciate their husbands doing and labelled it so.

His response: "But I did that last week."
Me: "I know."
Him:"But I did that last week."
Me: "I know. Weren't you just joking?"
Him: "No, I was being serious."
Me: "You seriously thought I liked that?"
Him: "Yeah. You laughed. And didn't act mad."
Me: "Because I thought you were joking."
Him: "Ashley, I was being so serious."

And we'll just say the conversation went downhill from there. My attitude was far from excellent. I could not believe that he seriously thought I liked what he had done. And he could not believe that I thought he was joking. And we may have had a brief disagreement over it. Now, I'm cracking up. It was just another reminder as to how differently our brains are wired. And we would have never known it if we hadn't found that book.

Story 3:The crazies
Earlier this week, I had to go to Wal-Mart four different times. Twice for school stuff, once for groceries, and once to pick up Andy's glasses.

I could write a novel about how much I hate going to Wal-Mart. It takes a lot out of me. I seriously have to have a recovery period sometimes.

This week required some recovery. Well. Only one visit.

They called to say that Andy's glasses were ready. So about 3 hours after they called, I made my way over to the store to pick them up. But they weren't put together. The lenses were there, but the frames were not attached. So I had to wait awhile.

While I waited, a kid stood and screamed for the entire time. Horrifying, wailing screams. I thought his poor mama was going to cry. She looked pretty frazzled. I was starting to feel a little frazzled too. Then a man came in. And while he was waiting to get his glasses, he proceeded to tell me in very loud and colorful language everything he hated about the self-checkout lane.

For minutes upon minutes.

I avoided eye contact. I didn't give responses. I looked around and tried to hide. Basically, I quenched every ounce of the Holy Spirit within me trying to figure out how to get away from this man.

And he still wouldn't stop.

Louder and louder. More and more vocal. People in the store proper were starting to stare.

I could have kissed the technician when she brought out his glasses.

And that is why I need to move closer to civilization. So I can go to Target instead.
Story 4: The Knife

I have a favorite knife. It is the only knife I ever use. It was given to me as a bridal shower gift. But the story goes much further than that. It was a deal, made long before I was engaged, that I would get my fancy knife when I got married, and the dear girl would get an avocado slicer when she gets married. Let's just say I've been researching my avocado slicers, and I found the best.

But this isn't about her. It's about me. How self-centered did that sound? Wow. Well, dear girl really came through. She picked out a fabulous knife. And I use it for everything. It's rarely in the drawer. It is almost always in the dish drainer in the sink. Because it gets used at least once a day.

I love using it. Especially in the summer, when we have meals with lots of vegetables. I like to pretend that I am Rachael or Giada just chopping up piles and piles of vegetables to toss into my pan. But recently, I've started using it for even more. Including my steak. Somehow I didn't realize we didn't have any steak knives and haven't done anything to take care of the problem. So I use my big, honking 7 inch knife to cut my itty bitty little steak right at the dinner table (which looks an awful lot like our coffee table). It looks ridiculous. Andy laughs at me. But it works.

I seriously love that knife.

I'm not sure why I shared that story. Just know that I have no shame. I'll tell you all about the ridiculous things I do.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Glad you love the knife and I'm glad you use it to cut your steak. I don't think it's sad or strange. When a girl needs to cut her steak she should be able to properly hack it apart with a ginormous 7-inch knife.