Imagine this strong, tough-guy, husband of mine, the man who was a self-sworn bachelor for life, the man who now has to deal with a woman’s irrational, tearful, crazy moments.
I had one of these an hour ago, and he is so sweet and comforting, even if he laughs the entire time, until I’m laughing and sobbing at the same time, and when that happens I can’t breathe.
What kicked off this sobfest?
My car. I’ve been without it three days this week and it has been a big pain in the ass getting the dealership to pick me up and drop me off and Jeff to take me to work, and when I finally get it back they tell me a squirrel has been living in the back seat, and I drive off to find out my Sirius satellite radio is >:XX’d up and I can only get 4 stations – top 20 hits on channel 1, the Catholic station, hard core sports, and a country music channel.
Oh yes, and my shoes.
I had shoes that I loved before, Doc Martens, but Surf ate them (that dog had such an appetite for leather… and glass.. metal… batteries… cd’s.. sewing needles..) Anyway, Jeff finally convinced me last Thanksgiving it was okay to spend money on a new pair. This week I was walking across campus in the rain, euphoric that my feet have been doing so well and it is spring and I love to walk and I was so fortunate to have such a comfortable pair of shoes, when suddenly I realized my right foot was soaked. How could my leather boot leak so fast? They are perfectly worked in, but maybe I need to give them a protectant spray again? I came home that night and asked my hero husband to take a look and he quickly found the problem. The rubber sole is cracked completely open across the ball of my foot and the Google is telling me that because I’m outside of the UK and because they are air soles, and because I don’t have the receipt, that they are not repairable. I’m crushed.
So it seems if you make it rain, and you take away my Doc Martens and my Howard Stern, it means I sob uncontrollably.
Sorry Jeff. I know the vows should have more been more specific.