Sign Up to be added to my readers' group and receive the first chapter of The Unscripted Life of Lizzy Dillinger!
It is general knowledge that my husband and I do not necessarily see eye to eye on two things:
Chickens and Cars.
We don’t need to discuss chickens. Everyone knows they are evil.
Anyone who knows my husband, knows he doesn’t give up cars easily. He’s in his 40’s and he’s had 2 cars in his life.
The KIA didn’t have window mechanics on the driver’s side. The window was propped up with a wooden dowel. If the dowel moved, the window would fall down suddenly. This was fine unless it was raining or snowing. And you were on the highway. To fix it, you would unscrew the one screw that held the inside of the door to the doorframe, readjust the dowel, and rescrew the door together. I thought doors needed more than one screw to stay together. Of course, I also thought door windows were kept up with more than a wooden stick.
Now we have a Subaru, which is a great car, but it has seen better days. For a year or two, duct tape kept the side mirror on. Luckily, that is no more. Now it’s just a feeling I have that once the car decides to take it’s final breath, I’ll be the one in it. At night. Without cell coverage.
(I believe I got this fear from the KIA, which died twice in the middle of Queens, New York while Kevin was out of town and I was 9 months pregnant.)
And due to the fact that these two “issues” aren’t really issues and are just things we roll our eyes at, I like to make fun of them.
I post on Facebook that I dislike the chickens and in return, people send me posts of products like aprons for egg collection and Converse with a chicken pattern. (I would wear those by the way.) It’s all fun and games. Except for the fact I do believe the chickens hate me and plot my demise on a daily basis.
And occasionally, I post how I would like a new car (who doesn’t?) or how much my husband loves his car. I think it’s funny.
Except I live in a small town.
And when I recently posted I think I need a new car, four dealers called my husband and asked him if he wanted a car.
Luckily, this doesn’t surprise my husband much because I’ve used Facebook to have people convey messages to him before. But for important things. Like Springsteen tickets. I wasn’t doing that this time, though.
Honestly, I didn’t think anyone would call him.
I mean calling him is simply ridiculous.
Anyone who knows us at all, knows I’m the one who buys the cars.