Wedding post to come...promise!
But first, I thought I should give all y'all a glimpse into my life. I've had a few moments, of...uh...let's just say "less smart" moments in my life. I remember a mere 10 or so years ago, being SO bothered by ditsy people. People who just didn't think things through. Oh, the irony. I am the queen, leader, 1st place winner of the that entire collection of people. All hail Queen Ditsy. Yep, that me. I tell you you this to bring awareness to this growing problem in America, and I'll start with some examples.
First: a few months ago, my less-than-amused Bug Man husband was none too pleased with me about having to fork over $500 for a new garage door. You see, I learned EARLY one morning that backing out of the garage BEFORE opening it is in fact a bad idea. Oops.
Next: A perk of my father-in-law working for Delta Airlines for 30someodd years is that his children get flight benefits for life, and their spouses... endless buddy passes. It's great, really it is, ok, who am I kidding. The idea of it is great, unfortunately, if you don't have a lot of flexibility in travel times, it can be a bit of a pain. The super-good perk of it, though, is that if you do get on a flight and it's relatively empty, you can be put in first class. Aw, the life of a first class passenger. I left one day for SLC, hoping to not only get on a flight, but to sit in a first class seat, so I could later brag about it. Sitting there...waiting...they call my name! YES! I'm on! SCORE! OK, I called Tony to let him know I got on, and he asked if I was in first class. I dunno, how do you tell? He asked "What's your seat number?" My reply? Uh... One, Oh, E. Tony: babe, you mean TEN E? Yep, I'm a genius.
I've been trying to come up with a valid excuse for my behavior, and there just isn't one. UNTIL today... my mother called me at work, while she and my dad were driving to Oregon, and I learned that such behavior is genetic.
You see, my dad's car needed to be serviced before the trip and so my mom took it in. Called him and asked "lube, oil and filter, right?" Dad says yes, they hang up. She calls back a few minutes later "synthetic oil?" Dad says whatever the manufacturer recommends. Got it. Third phone call "You'll never believe what I did!" At this point, I'm not gonna lie, I'm thinking she put windex in the oil or something like that, but no, she confesses "I got the wrong car serviced." That's right, she took HER own car in, instead of my dads. I feel so much better. Thanks mom.
What's NOT up?
6 years ago