When I mentioned to my family that I was going to start a blog, they asked what did I have to write about. Then, almost in the same breath, my husband announced he didn't want me writing about him. Oh but it would be so easy to write about him. He's the reason my life borders between insanity & halarity.
Take the other week for instance. I needed to run to town and pay a bill. I've got to set this up though. I'm southern so 'run' doesn't necessarily mean in the literal sense. In this case it means 'to drive'. The bill I needed to pay is only two blocks away so I always pay in person.
Our driveway is on a slight incline and on a corner intersection, so when backing out you need to proceed with caution but quickly. I don't like to change into drive until I've come to a complete stop so of course there's the brake action put into play here. Then I have to almost immediately stop again for a stop sign. Then there's a wide left turn, slow down for another intersection, pot hole, stop sign, turn right on major highway, then pull over & park. Sounds a bit complicated for two blocks, but really quite simple.
OK done and I'm there getting out to pay my bill. Only by accident do I walk around to the back of my truck and I find a surprise sitting on the bumper. Our mail from yesterday! And sure I know who put it there and it wasn't the postman.
Ok maybe the postman is a little to blame since he's started running later. Caleb usually gets the mail when he comes in from school. But since now the postman hasn't run, he comes on in the house and we get busy with stuff and forget about it. Hence yesterday's mail, but important none the less.
I could probably write a book, but instead I turn the truck around and retrace my path and hope that if something fell off no one else got it and I see it. Yeah it would be so easy to write about him, but I'll try real hard maybe to refrain. Hey, I don't think he's gonna read this anyway.
I just love family. Don't you?