I just broke a vase by accidentally slamming another vase into it. Survival of the Fittest Vase is playing out in my kitchen sink, all because I still haven’t adjusted completely to my glasses. Watch out! I might be driving to the grocery store tonight! We’re out of milk, you see, and the Oberweis guy won’t be here until 10:00 tomorrow morning. If you follow that link, you’ll notice that Oberweis is trying to make me (and you) buy some of their egg nog. I’ve had egg nog once in my life, and that was back in college at a dean’s Christmas party. I don’t handle alcohol very well. Also, I’m intolerant of lactose. I do remember wearing a very cute skirt to that party, but that’s pretty much where the good memories end.
If you know me at all, you know that I’m pretty relaxed. I occasionally get ruffled, but it’s nothing that a five minute goofy typed rant won’t solve. AND, best of all, 89.73% of my rants end without confrontation or consequence, and then I’m back to baking a potato or folding laundry or whatever. Okay.
Last winter, it snowed. You might be wondering where that sentence came from, so let me elaborate. It snowed, which means the temperature was sort of cold, which means our front door wouldn’t open without a significant amount of force. One particularly cold morning, Jeff left to go to work and he closed the door behind him. Twenty minutes later, when the girls and I tried to leave so we could drive Meredith to school, I couldn’t open the front door. I pulled and tugged and kicked it (you know, to loosen it up) for nearly ten minutes with no luck. The only way we could get out of the house involved walking through nearly eight inches of unshoveled snow from the back door around the side of the house to the garage. (We don’t have a door that leads from the house directly to the garage. We’ll talk about that charming feature some other time. Actually, let’s get it out there right now. The people who built the house forgot to put the garage on until after the house was built. Because of this, our kitchen has a big lovely window that looks directly out into the garage. (Our neighbors love that story.))
Anyway, after picking both kids up and carrying them to the garage so they wouldn’t get all wet (I am Superman, and I know what’s happening), I locked the back door and we drove to school. During the drive home, it occurred to me that I don’t have a key to get into the house through the back door. (I didn’t then. I do now.) My mind EXPLODED and I called my dad.
Me: So, yeah. I can’t get into my house through the front door even though that door is UNLOCKED, and I can’t get in through the back door because I DON’T HAVE A KEY FOR THE BACK DOOR and Jeff is in a meeting so now Harper and I HAVE TO SIT IN THE GARAGE ALL DAY!
Dad: If you can wait thirty minutes, I’ll come up and get the front door open.
Me: I can’t wait thirty minutes. I’m kicking the door down.
Dad: Do NOT kick the door down. I’m on my way.
I parked the car in the driveway, stomped up to the front door like Henry Rollins would, and kicked it down. And I didn’t just kick the door down, I became a prime candidate for one of those trashy late-night cop shows by going all Van Damme 360 Spinning Kick Compilation! on it. (I kept my shirt on.)
Five minutes later, Harper and I were drinking hot chocolate and baking muffins or something similarly hypotensive. The only consequence of my rant? I sort of screwed up the door and ruined the door frame. This resulted in over one thousand dollars worth of damage because our door is not a standard sized door (who knew?!), and that’s so crazy because Paul, I think I told you, I’m a lover—not a fighter! My dad came over, fed me a big spoonful of I Wish You Wouldn’t Have Done This, and repaired the door as best as he could.