So, as you may know this is not the best of time for me. I am not necessarily doing that well, but I am trying to keep my chin up, be positive and continue on with my life as best I can.
What I may have inadvertantly missed is that my husband might be stressed as well. But alternatively he might just be a complete Moron (I say this lovingly, just to be clear). So for this story, I will call him Dr. M (M for moron, or Massie if you insist on trying to give him some credit--but by the end I bet you agree Moron is a way better nickname).
Earlier this week Tristan successfully took 2 of our 2 cars out of commission in 2 days. This is a new record I think!
But before I tell this story I have to refresh the key players:
"Blue-ey" is the car I am paid for (okay am paying for and still owe many, many, many more months of payments). Blue-ey is a 2005 honda civic hybrid bought to replace my fire engine red Saturn VUE I loved but considering Tristan had just purchased a Jeep Liberty I did not want 2 trucks and no gas economical cars.
Tristan is the primary driver of Blue-ey (and yes our insurance company knows this). This is because he drives about 20 miles each way to his worksite.
"Death Trappy", "Crap Mobile" or "My Arch Nemisis" is the Jeep Liberty Tristan bought back in 2005 when American Cars were being sold really cheaply. I hate death trappy with a passion but am the primary driver. My commute is about 7 miles each way but frequently I jog, hop a ride with others, take the bus or occasionally even bike to work (all to avoid death trappy).
While each of us owns the car the other person drives we each have our own key rings for each vehicle. I have blue-ey's key hooked to a purple carribeaner that can get attached to my wallet, clothing or put in my fanny pack. I have death trappys key on a green carribeaner that again can be hooked to other stuff.
Tristan's key set up is a big mess and I can without fear of overexageration say that no janitor has more keys then Tristan has on his main key chain that includes blue-eys keys. I have no idea about where or how he stores Death Trappys keys but in our household we kind of have a don't ask, don't tell policy about alot of stuff. (Don't judge us because most of the time it works)
Monday evening Dr. M drives home but upon getting into the house mentions we have to take Gilligan to the Vets using Death Trappy because,
"The gas tank is on empty, the idiot light is on and I cannot pop open the gas tank to fill it" is Dr. M's statement.
Since we are in a rush I do not ask any questions until after we get home from the vets.
At home the first question I ask Dr. M is, "When did you know the gas tank wouldn't pop open?"
To which he replies, "Saturday night"
I am dumbfounded. But I am able to follow this up with the next question, "So, when did the idiot light come on"
"The beginning of my ride home" he states.
I am speechless but have to ask the next question, "So considering blue-eys tank is empty and we have no way to fill it, who is going to drive Blue-ey tommorrow"
Wait, I can see you all are anxiously awaiting his reply as much as I was.
"You", Dr. M states!
"But Blue-ey has no gas and the idiot light is on...I am not an idiot, Dr. M!" I emphatically reply. (I might have said some other words but pretty much since this is a g or pg-17 rated blog I cannot include them)
Well, this pawning of a not so operation vehicle on me explains why I had to run to my dermatologist appointment, arrive there quite sweaty and probably a bit pink (because my complexion lends itself to lobster face after about 5 seconds of being outside!)
But in our world, this is not the end of the story, this is just the beginning....
Tristan arrives home Tuesday night.
Tristan parks crapmobile and comes in the house.
I tell him we need to get "blue-ey" serviced so I can drive to work Thursday and he can take Gilligan to his oncology appt on Thursday. This is fine. We can both drive separate cars to a local honda dealership then head on to Brusters for Ice Cream. We decide to leave the house at 7 p.m..
At 7 Tristan's mentions that Death Trappy's keys are in the ignition. Thats fine with me. Until he mentions, "Yeah the're locked in there". Again this is still fine with me, so I simply suggest, "Borrow my keys and you can unlock the door".
Dr. M's response is then, "I can't because they are already in the car"
This is when all heck breaks loose in our household.
"Wait a second, you are using my keys for death trappy?" was my next question. I am willing to swap cars but not keys!
I suggest that Tristan should simply get his keys and unlock my keys from the car.
Well apparently the reason for his theiving my keys was that he has lost his set. Aargh! That is why we have clearly defined "Tammy" items and "Dr. M" items. That is also why he is not supposed to touch my stuff because it tends to either get lost or broken. It's like living with a child. A beligerant child!!!
Tristan then said it was my fault the keys got locked in the car because they only had a carribeaner on them. WHAT!!! My keys can get attached to anything (including his janitor key ring) so this is no excuse.
Well, the argument escalates until our very nice neighbor offers to follow me to the dealership.
This works out okay.
Thursday I got blue-ey back and immediately after picking her up filled the tank. The tank supposedly is 11.5 gallons.
She guzzled down 13.77 gallons like a runner after an ultramarathon! (or whatever other phrase you might want to use...but she was thirsty).
Either she was truly running on fumes and/or she has broken all sorts of laws of physics and mass).
Now I just need to find a way to ensure my keys are not touched again. I was thinking of having the dog lick them, but that would totally gross me out. And girlifying keys is not exactly successful because I have seen Tristan with my purple keychain occasionally. Any idea's?
Happy National Radio Day!
13 hours ago