I spend a ton of my time in the kitchen. If I’m not cooking, I’m cleaning (read: gazing out the window wishing friendly forest animals would get their act together and do their part), and if I’m not cleaning, I’m sitting on the counter reading a cookbook like most 24 year olds.
This is not a story about the time I spend in a kitchen. Because if I spend as much time in the kitchen as I claim, I would have realized we were out of strawberries. And when Matt asked earlier that day for a strawberry sandwich for dinner, I would not have agreed. But I didn’t, so I did.
Last MRI day (all clear #gloryglory), lunch ran a little late and Matt had ants all up in his pants about getting back to work before two. As he was turning out of the driveway (on two wheels) he told me to just meet him at bible study with strawberry sandwiches, because we are just too good for other people’s food. You know.
Not a problem. Said the good and always prepared wifey.
I’ll admit I was a little ruffled that day. MRI days are always filled with a little stress, I was on the deadline for the mag and I couldn’t find my phone charger. Which is strange, because my house is always spotless.
So I decide to run out to the car and look there. When in doubt, check the floorboards I always say. I opened the driver’s side and WHAM. You know what the inside of a chemical factory smells like? I do. I looked in the back seat and saw, to my dismay, that one of the two cans of enamel I had purchased the week before to refinish some outdoor furniture had, in fact, been compromised by the heat. They don’t make ’em like they used to. Gray enamel had leaked on the backseat of my car. I thought about crying, but decided against it. There was nothing I could do, It had already dried and wasn’t that noticeable. Gray is gray and thank goodness my seats are gray. I just wouldn’t want to be wearing shorts on a hot day in my back seat. Because you will stick.
I placed the cans of enamel on the driveway and went back inside, still without a charger to finish up the last few ads I had for the day.
Instead, I procrastinated by opening the refrigerator to make strawberry sandwiches for that night. I took them out, washed them and checked your reading comprehension. Yes, there were no strawberries. Glad you’re still with me.
You are so good, I thought to myself. If I hadn’t been procrastinating, I would have never known we were out of strawberries before it was too late. No Problem. I hopped in the car, started to back out of the driveway and POW. I jumped out of the car to see what was the matter and I couldn’t help but notice the black enamel that was now covering 1/4 of my white car as well as a large portion of driveway. The next hour was kind of a blur.
Tears flowing. Fast Running. Rag grabbing. Hose pulling. Cleaner spraying. Enamel smearing. Sweat dripping. Water spraying. Matt calling.
I gave in. I couldn’t do this by myself. So I called and calmly explained what had happened. Through giant sobs.
To which the good and always loving husband said, “I am on site, I can’t quite hear you, I’m on my way.”
Ten minutes later, he is jumping out of his truck with a confused look on his face. I told him again what happened. Turns out, enamel sounds an awful lot like an animal and he told his coworkers I hit an animal, it was everywhere and it was dying.
Enamel is worse. So. Much. Worse.