Friday, July 13, 2012

He's Trying to Kill Me...

I had a flat tire last week and I asked Chris if he could have it repaired for me on his lunch break. When he came home with the car, it was washed, the tires were new, and the interior was glistening from excessive use of oily cleaner.

The next morning, as I tried to pull out of our driveway, my hands slipped on the greasy steering wheel and I bounced my back end off the curb. I wiped my hands on my pants and grabbed the steering wheel again, determined to regain control.

The light turned green at my stop light and I attempted to make a left turn.


Slide, slide, slide went my hands. Right before I crossed into oncoming traffic, I regained control by jamming my hands through the holes in the steering wheel, steering like Frankenstein with my arms oddly outstretched.

I thought I had things under control... until the sun popped out from behind the morning clouds.

The reflection was so strong from my dash, it was as if God took a mirror to the sun and was trying to fry me like an ant. I think my cornea's got sunburned.

Naturally, when I arrived home from work, I thanked my husband for being so thoughtful.


Front door slam. "YOU ALMOST FRIGGIN' KILLED ME" I yelled.

"What? Huh? What'd I do?" He asked.

"There's more oil in my car than in the ocean after the Exxon Valdez spill! I couldn't steer! Or see!"

"Me? No. Not on purpose." he said. But as he walked away, I saw his shoulders shake from laughter he was holding in.

Maybe it's time to change the beneficiary on my life insurance policy.