By now, most everyone in the free world knows I’m married.
I won’t shut up about it.
(I think it was mentioned in some press conference on TV the other night, but I was outside jumping up trying to see over the fence asking the neighbors if they knew I got married.)
When I was single, I dealt with:
1. a flat tire or two
2. a garage door opener that wouldn’t open the garage door one day after work so I had to stand on the smoldering hood of the car barefooted trying to manually open it
C. and a date request from a homeless dude I just gave fried chicken to
And for some reason when you’re kinda pretty much on your own and find yourself stuck in a situation, you tend not to panic right away.
You deal with it.
(Then panic later over a tub of Ben & Jerry’s Karamel Sutra.)
(While watching Judge Judy.)
Now that I’m (ehem…) married, I kinda panic.
Like last night.
My daughter (I love saying that. I always wanted a daughter but never wanted to deal with that birthing stuff. And swore that if I ever married again, there’d be no ex-wife. Been there, done that before. There is no ex-wife now so I get to call her my very own. I have a daughter now. All mine. And well, his, too…but still mine.) wanted to do take-out since Keith (her dad, the cutest boy in the world who I married) had to work last night.
I’m totally hip to not doing leftovers and so I succumbed.
(I don’t even know what that word means…it just sounded good.)
I agreed to pick up Chipotle.
Got there, picked up the take out, got back in the car, cranked it up and: NOTHING.
17 tries later: NOTHING.
I kinda started to get creepy-eyed. I called Keith and did my best to sound calm and mature.
Me: “OH MY GOD THE CAR WON’T START AND I DON’T KNOW WHAT’S WRONG I’VE NEVER HAD TROUBLE WITH IT BEFORE AND I’M AT CHIPOTLE AND PEOPLE ARE LOOKING AT ME AND THIS BURRITO IS SMELLING UP MY CAR AND I HAVE TO PEE. BAD!”
Keith: “Baby, slow down. What’s happening?”
Me: “I DON’T KNOW I JUST KEEP TRYING AND TRYING AND TRYING AND IT WON’T START AND OH MY GOD THE RADIO WON’T EVEN COME ON! IT’S HOT! I NEED AIR! I CAN’T BREATHE! I CAN’T AFFORD ANOTHER CAR RIGHT NOW! OH MY GOD I GOTTA PEE!”
Keith: “OK…If you will look in the glove compartment, your insurance card is in there and it has a number for Roadside Assistance on it. They will be able to get to you quicker than I can. Call the number and they will walk you through what to do. Then call me back.”
Me: “OK I HAVE THE CARD AND I SEE THE NUMBER SO LET ME GO CALL! I CAN’T BREATHE! THE RADIO WON’T COME ON!”
(It was approximately 73* outside.)
I called and got the nicest little insurance man on the phone and I immediately felt calm and mature.
4 minutes later…I’m still waiting for Roadside Assistance Dude to show. So, I texted my daughter to let her know I’d be late with dinner.
(Sweet thing. God love her…she was so concerned.)
(I’m glad I was able to show her it’s always best to remain calm and mature during situations. And to never panic.)
(SHE changed her name on my phone to read “Cayla is My All Time Favorite”…imagine that.)
13 minutes later, the Roadside Assistance Dude was under the hood.
With the battery defibrillator or whatever that thing is.
It cranked right up.
(Staying calm and mature apparently has it’s perks.)
I’m a tipper. I had no cash. However, I WAS perched right up in front of Chipotle.
Me: “Thank you for making it here so quick and being so kind. You’ve been a great help. I’d like to give you something but I have no cash. Can I buy you dinner?”
Roadside Assistance Dude: “Uh, well, uh…uh, well…errr…ok.”
(I swear he thought I was making a move on him.)
I then whipped out my phone and opened up my cool little Chipotle app and immediately went into waitress mode.
Me: “Would you like a Burrito, Burrito Bowl, Tacos or a Salad? And what about beans? Black or pinto? Guacamole?”
He stood at my car door googly-eyed. He almost looked scared. Frozen in fear, if you will.
We (I) finished up his order and I told him it would be paid for and ready to go in about 7 minutes through my app, and I scooted him across the parking lot to the restaurant. He stood on the curb, mouth open and no words said as I waved goodbye.
I made it home and dinner was scrumpt. Cayla was happy and her concern for me had subsided. Plus, ‘The Big Bang Theory’ was on.
This morning, Keith had to drive me to work so he could take care of my car battery during the day. It was then I felt it necessary to tell him I asked another man to dinner last night.
Me: “Soooo. I bought the Roadside Assistance Dude dinner last night.”
Keith: “You did what?” (All scrunchy-faced and in pure disbelief.)
Me: “Yeah. I didn’t have cash to tip him. It was a nice thing to do. He could have been having a bad day or he might have been broke or he might have just got the news his mother has some dreaded, bone-disintegrating disease and by me buying him a burrito, I made him feel better.”
Keith: “Of course you did. We’ve been married for less than one month and you’re telling me you bought another man dinner last night?”
Me: “Yep. I’m nice like that.”
Keith: “My goodness, I love you.”
Me: “I know.”