I’m a jackass. And that’s ok because God thinks He’s funny and agrees. So now I don’t have to start smoking or share a cell in the pokey.

May 6, 2014 in Hit or Miss...kinda like my dating life.

“I’ll just tell him I need an oil change later.  No need in him calling back this early for that.”

“Do not forget to tell him to start the dishwasher before he leaves the house.  Do not forget.”

“Maybe when he went to get his blood taken, they decided to go ahead and do his stress test so he turned his phone off.”

“But if he had to turn his phone off, he would have called me first to tell me he had to turn his phone off because there’s no way he’d turn his phone off without telling me he had to turn his phone off.”

“He probably just is out of cell phone range.”

“He was fine when I left this morning, maybe he tripped when he got out of bed and hit his head and he’s laying on the floor unconscious in the bedroom and oh, my Lord, he’s probably in one of the worst pair of underwear he owns!”

“How the hell am I supposed to get blood out of the carpet??”

“Something isn’t right.  He never doesn’t respond to texts even when I text him telling him not to respond to my text.  Hell, even when he’s chasing some goat off the road or drawing chalk around a body or whatever he does, he still will respond with “busy”….so I don’t get this??”

“Seriously?  He sent my call to voicemail?  Are you friggin kidding me?  In the 2 years I’ve known him, he has NEVER not one time NOT answered.  Sure I might get the quick, “Hey babe, I gotta call back” but never have I ever been sent to voicemail.”

“You know, he’s even answers when he’s on the toilet.”

“Now three calls sent to voicemail and no replies to my texts in over 3-1/2 hours?  If he ain’t busted up and bleeding now, he sure as hell will be when I get ahold of his ass!”

“Oh, my God.  What if he got in a wreck or he’s been shot?  Check the local news station sites.  Nothing.  But would they even report something that bad without the next of kin being notified?”


“Don’t start crying.  Just stop.  Suck it up and stop.  If something ‘did’ happen, you gotta hold it together.  Stop getting all teary-eyed.  If someone comes by this stupid cube, they’ll ask what’s up then you’ll start blubbering and sweet Jesus….JUST STOP IT ALREADY!”

“Wait.  He told me if something ever happened really bad, I wouldn’t be called but some law dudes would come to the house or the office to tell me what’s happened.  No phone call.  Then I’ll have to ride in the back of their patrol car to where ever they’re going to take me.”

“What if there’s pee back there where some criminal pee’d?  Or crapped.  Or did something even worse??  What if it gets on my skirt and this is a brand new skirt?”

“What if people I work with see me getting in the back of a patrol car and think I’ve done some kind of espionage or something?  Crap.  I’m taking my own car…I don’t care.”

“And that’s why his phone is going straight to voicemail because he’s dead and his cop friends turned it off because I keep calling and texting and bothering them while they’re trying to do CPR or pull him from his mangled patrol truck or they’re chasing the asshat that shot at him and GOD FORBID I EVER KNOW WHO SHOT MY HUSBAND BECAUSE I WILL KILL THEM WITH MY BARE HANDS AND WATCH THEIR BLOOD DRAIN DOWN MY ARMS AND THEN I’LL HAVE TO DEPEND ON CAYLA TO SNEAK ME CIGARETTES WHILE I’M IN THE POKEY AND I DON’T EVEN SMOKE BUT I’LL HAVE TO START SO I’LL LOOK TOUGH TO THE OTHER INMATES SO I WON’T BE ROUGHED UP AND SHE DON’T EVEN KNOW MY SHADE OF LIPSTICK TO BRING!  OH MY GOD….IS THIS MY LIFE NOW??”




One more phone call made 3 minutes later.

Keith:  “Hey babe…what’s up?”

Me:  (Slobbering like a drunk, back alley crack whore who can’t find her dealer)  “Where have you beeeeeeeeen?  I’ve been calling and calling and texting and you didn’t answer and I just knew you were dead and I kept thinking the front desk was going to call for me to come down to the main lobby because there were men in coats down there waiting for me to tell me you were shot and dead and then I’d have to kill your murderer and I just got my nails done last Thursday and then Cayla would have to come to the pokey and see me behind bars and well, that’s no place a kid needs to hang out and you know I am NOT sharing a prison cell with anyone and plus, you know Cayla would probably taunt me with moon pies and cake icing keeping them right out of my reach between the prison cell bars and any macaroni and cheese she brought me wouldn’t have near enough milk in it for me and OH MY GOD I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD!”

Keith:  “Whoa, whoa, whoa…what’s going on??”

Me:  (Slobbering worse now and kinda snotty breathing because my nose is now running)  “Do I need to repeat all that??  I said I’ve been calling and calling and….you wouldn’t answer or reply and well, I thought you were….”

Keith:  “OK…stop.  Hang on.”

(3 seconds go by.)

Keith:  “Baby, I am so sorry…my phone hasn’t alerted me to any of your texts and your calls!!!  I don’t know what’s wrong with it but I see them now and I am just so sorry…but I’m ok, please stop crying.”

Keith Text


There you have it.

That was one of my mornings this week.

And it was rightly deserved.

I left the house mad at him that morning.

Mad, because he came to bed late and kept me up even later yacking in my ear about God knows what and then I got even madder because when “I” was awake enough to talk, he was then sleepy and didn’t want to hear about a book I was reading and well, it was just all stupid.


So, when I left for work the next morning, I kissed him on the cheek and promptly sashayed out of the house while barking, “I love you and be careful!”

(It certainly didn’t sound like I meant it though.  Had more of a drill sergeant tone to it.)

He said, “I love you, too.”  But his “I love you, too” was very sweet and gentle and kind and just so Keith.

I responded with, “What.  Ever.  Dude.”

And this is how I know God thinks He’s funny and He gets immense satisfaction reminding me how I need to be a better wife, a better mom and not be such a jackass.

And I’m sure with me, God uses that precise word:  Jackass.

As He should.

jennifer niles May 6, 2014 at 11:09 am

i just clicked on your link from jenny lawsons blog.
so funny! i am so glad i am not the only one who imagines the worst case in such a detailed way. i am glad your man was safe… and that you aren’t in the slammer coughing on cigarettes!

Carrie May 6, 2014 at 12:04 pm

Aww…thank you! (Ain’t Jenny the best?!?)

Yes. It’s a horrible thing but I always go for the worst outcome when crap isn’t going the way “I” think it should.


Hanna Elizabeth May 6, 2014 at 11:27 am

Well, you’re not alone in that kind of panic. My guy isn’t even a police officer but I still get panicked all to hell when he doesn’t call me back. Usually, it’s due to being in a meeting. But still!

Carrie May 6, 2014 at 12:05 pm

Great. I’m glad I’m not the only freaker-outter in cases like that.

It’s his phone. He’s STILL having trouble with it this morning. He’s taking it in asap.

Lisa Guedry May 6, 2014 at 12:54 pm

Just one of the many perks of marriage….you worry your ass off about everybody!

Carrie May 6, 2014 at 1:17 pm

You ain’t kidding.

There needs to be a better and bigger word for ‘worry’ than ‘worry’, too.


That Nerdy Girl May 6, 2014 at 1:29 pm

If I were you I’d blame this all on the goose. As is only right and proper. 😉
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Carrie May 6, 2014 at 1:43 pm

Oh, my God.

You’re brilliant. Where was this grand wisdom when it all went down?!?


Amber May 6, 2014 at 2:32 pm

I’m glad I’m not the only one who worries like this. I seriously can go into a panic.
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Carrie May 6, 2014 at 3:41 pm

I was a total freak.

Then kinda got mad when I saw he was ok.

Like my momma used to do when I’d be missing in the neighborhood and not home on time? Yeah, she’d be so thrilled to see me buzzing up the driveway, then she’d swat my butt just’a sqwacking about how I made her a nervous wreck.


Adelyn May 6, 2014 at 9:40 pm

I do that a lot. Get mad (sorta) that I can’t get him. Then worried. Then panicked. Then freaked. Then mad (sorta) when I do get him. And he is an accountant. 😉

I really don’t know how they deal with us…but never tell that I said that. 🙂

Carrie May 7, 2014 at 8:04 am

You ain’t kidding. I sure know “I” would have a hard time dealing with me.

Was laughing the other day with a friend and we were talking about how men and women are and she nailed it. She said:

“They need to understand, with us, there are rules. And WE don’t even know the rules but by the time we kinda think we know the rules, the rules change and once again nobody knows the rules but yet there are rules. Rules in our head that we know are there but we can’t get them out of our mouth before they change again!”

Yep. She’s a genius.

katie metzroth May 13, 2014 at 4:47 pm

may I point out that you don’t smoke.
and that if you were in the slammer, I’m pretty sure that I could manage to help get you the right shade of lipstick. 🙂 (don’t underestimate your posse)

I’m glad he’s ok.
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