The Things We Do
A friend's story about her crazy weekend reminded me of a story (shout out to LMayo!).
This is story about the learning process of marriage.
This past spring Andy had some time off between the time he finished his 4th year rotations and the time he would graduate in May, so he decided to be productive and get a paper route. His route happened to be in the hood with lots of shady duplexes and apartments and he wasn't very fond of it. He especially disliked Sundays because the Sunday paper was bigger which meant for more rolling (he had to roll and bag the papers himself). At one point he volunteered to go with the youth group guys somewhere so he needed someone to take his paper route for Saturday and Sunday morning. After asking "every guy he knew," he informed my lil' sis, Melody, and me that we would need to do his route. I negotiated massages for both of us at Andy's expense and stubbornly agreed to the arrangements. We headed out at 4:00 am to begin the process and I have to say that just the process itself was pretty horrible. What came along with the process, however, would have brought (and I hope did in Andy's case) shame to any husband who asked such a thing of his wife and sister-in-law. I was especially concerned by the number of drunk people (to whom we had to hand the papers) hanging out in their front yards at 5:00 am on Sunday morning, those that yelled and cussed at us, and the guy with the tear-drop tattoo that hissed at us as we drove through the parking lot of his apartments.
I guess sometimes there's a cost to being independent--people forget that you shouldn't even be asked to do certain things even if you are capable of doing them. My wonderful husband has since learned this lesson; although, now that I think about it, I am still the one always taking out the trash. Maybe I'll get a break on that one when I'm 8 months pregnant and it's snowing outside.
6 comments:
That is a scary story!! Shame on Andy!
When the trash needs to be taken out at our house, I just put in in the middle of the kitchen floor until James takes it out. For some reason, he can't tell that the trash can is full unless it's out in clear view.
I don't know what it is about guys and trash. You'd think they could tell it was full. But I guess when your trash doesn't usually make it to the trash can to begin with you'd never know.
Mike would have probably sent me to the East side too, but I am proud to say that he empties trash like everyday.
take out the trash? What's that?
AH! The trash! Well your dad is the trash person around here. It has to be done just right! Is there such a thing as being a "Trash Perfectionist?" Well, that is your dad. Our trash has to be taken into town to the recycling center, so there is a little more to it than taking it to the curb. Trash day around here is quite a process. When y'all start dealing with Charlie's dirty diapers, then that will be an incentive to DUMP that trash FAST!!!
PS. Your dad had a paper route for two years when he was a teenager, and that was on a bicycle! I'm sure he has some stories to tell.
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