Well, dear reader, it's been some kind of week. Our furnace and air conditioner died, my brakes are making this horrible grinding noise, The Bean and I got our shots, and our arms are sore, and I flashed the poor man and his partner that are installing the new furnace and air conditioner. Yes, you read that correctly. I flashed the heating and cooling guy. I'm not talking whizzed by the window like a streak of lightning. Oh no, I stood first with my backside to him and then turned and gave him the full-frontal assault. That is how my week is going.
Yesterday, when I went to the store, I noticed my brakes were making a rumbly noise when I came to a full stop. I made two calls to the garage and received no response. I got up this morning, made another call, left a message, and then went to get in the shower. I left my phone downstairs. I never carry my phone with me. Often, I have no idea where my phone is located. The Bibbed Wonder often scolds me for my lack of phone responsibility. As I was stepping into the shower, I heard my phone ring. We live in the middle of nowhere. I have beautiful cherry trim around my windows and beautiful views from all angles. I do not have curtains. I just knew it was the garage calling me back. They are busy people and hard to pin down. If I missed this call, I might not get in touch with them until the next day. I made a choice to run for the phone in my current naked state. Who would see me, right?
As I stood in front of my living room window with my back turned and my full backside in view of the world, I heard a noise. I turned, and to my shock and dismay, there stood Dave, the air conditioner guy. I didn't just turn my head; oh no, I turned completely around and gave him the full-frontal assault. He stood there with a quizzical look on his face. I screamed into the phone, piercing Mark, the car guy's eardrum. I ran to the couch, rolled myself up in a quilt, and tried to make sense of the conversation I was having with Mark, the car guy. Sigh, I hate my life.
My scream awakened The Bean. She came running to my aide. I ran up the stairs, still wrapped in the quilt, turned off the shower, snuck into The Beans room with my clothes, and tried not to cry. The Bean was comforting at first, then she took a giggling fit and went to get her dad. I heard them laughing before I saw them, but they tried to get in under control as they entered the house. I sat on the stairs, now dressed, hiding from all windows, red-faced and ashamed. Eric asked very stoically, "What's going on, buddy? I'm happy to see you have clothes on." He and The Bean then collapsed in a fit of giggles. Have I ever told you that I don't find my husband funny at all? Ever.
Eric couldn't look at me without laughing. I told him what happened, he could see how humiliated I am, he did stop laughing, but he can't look at me without smirking. The Bean again went into comfort mode and tried to make me feel better. She said in a theatrical whisper, "It's okay, mommy, just get in the shower. Be careful; the furnace guy is in the backyard too." I responded in a hissing whisper, "I can't take a shower now!" The Bean thought for a moment, then replied, "Don't worry about it now; the damage is already done." Sigh. I really hate my life.
Currently, I am skulking about the house, trying not to be seen or heard. I have yet to see the furnace guy or his assistant. I can't be around Eric because he smirks and sings songs and makes up rhymes. The last words he spoke to me were, "This morning, my own breakfast I had to cook. Dave brings an air conditioner, and he gets to have a look." I hate his rhyming abilities and quick wit. I am hiding upstairs in the heat of a million ovens trying not to make eye contact with anyone. This is going to be my day. Hiding away, wrapped in ten layers of clothing, not talking to anyone because I am ashamed. Sigh. Have I told you how very much I hate my life right now?
As always, dear reader, stay safe, be smart, don't stand in front of the windows naked, not paying attention to the world, and wash your hands.