Jeff and I had to take my car to the shop today for some scheduled maintenance, which meant I had to drive an alternate vehicle to work. Cue shower scene music from Psycho.
For those of you keeping score at home, our fleet now includes the following:
My newly acquired (gently used) BMW
Jeff's Honda
Our 1997 Nissan Pathfinder with 250K miles on it
Jeff's 70's era Ford Bronco and Ford F-100
A Ford truck frame
7 Ford truck tailgates
And a partridge in a pear tree
Now is probably a good time to note that none of the aforementioned vehicles are currently parked in the garage we built last year. And they look so nice parked in the back yard.
Generally, when my car is unavailable I drive the Pathfinder. Jeff tends to be "particular" about his car and it's not worth the hassle to drive it. And by "particular" I mean bat-shit crazy anal. I had to drive his previous car to work a couple of years ago and when I needed to pick up some sand for an office event, I was so terrified that I'd get a single grain of sand in his spotless trunk that I put the bag of sand in a giant garbage bag...then in a copy paper box...then in a larger box with the lid closed. Better safe than divorced. Those of you who have met Jeff are likely unsurprised by this.
Jeff needed the Pathfinder today (probably to buy more car crap), which meant I was going to have to drive one of his babies. Shit. He told me to take his Honda, but he clearly wasn't happy about it.
When I headed out the door to work, I told him good bye and he bid me farewell with these loving words: "Stay off the curbs, if you know what's good for you". Because nothing says "have a nice day" like an order followed by an implied threat.
Twelve years of marriage and the magic is still alive people.
...and they lived Happily Ever After.
