Last Saturday, as part two of a blizzard came through Ohio, I dropped my mom off at her house after lunch and some shopping, I reversed a little too far, and got stuck.
Why do you think you can just plow through everything with your car?
I have 4wd.
Yeah, but the snow is three feet deep, you don’t drive a tank.
Yes, Andy, I get it, I’m an idiot, keep shoveling.
For two days he lectured me.
He bought me a small shovel to keep in my trunk, so the next time I was stuck, I could shovel myself out.
All week he told his friends the story of how he’d rescued me.
And, they chuckled their stupid man chuckles, all, silly women and their simple brains, pms and poor driving skills.
Never mind I have picked him up from an ER at 3am, totally didn’t mock him when he cried after a hermit crab pinched his inner thigh in Virginia Beach, and held his hair when he threw up tequila on the side of an ancient ruin in Mexico.
I’m the helpless one, apparently.
I was busy painting Gigi’s room, and Andy was busy in the garage with his friends. Working on 4wheelers, drinking beer, looking at boobie magazines, measuring their wieners. Honestly, I have no idea what men actually do in there. I think it’s cold, haunted and smells like gasoline.
In a moment of brilliance, he decided he needed to maneuver my car out of the way to get a snowmobile out, and next thing I know, I hear swearing coming from the front yard.
I look outside, and what do I see?
My car. In a small snowdrift next to our driveway.
It had to be towed out.
What would possess you to do this?
I thought I could make it.
It’s not a tank, Andy.
Sorry for making fun of you.
I know. Can you pick up a pizza for dinner, get The Proposal from RedBox and get Gigi’s prescription from the pharmacy for me?
Absolutely, anything you need. Consider it done.
Awesome. I also need tampons. Super ones. The big box.